


Promise

by 8lapetitehirondelle8



Series: The 'Promise' Collection [1]
Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Barry Burkowski - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Larry Sizemore - Freeform, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13884132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8lapetitehirondelle8/pseuds/8lapetitehirondelle8
Summary: When you’re a burned spy and you’ve been dumped in your hometown with your mother, ex-lover, and ex-operations partner, you don’t always have the ability to separate your loved ones from your work. They manage to worm their way into things regardless, and once you’ve finally adjusted to them being around on a permanent basis, they somehow manage to drag even more people into the thick of it, which can sometimes create… challenges.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little foray into "what if" territory.
> 
> As always, endless thanks to [Pip](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart) who is the BEST beta.

*******

_ When you’re a spy, relationships are a liability. Any personal ties you have can be used against you. Family, friends, lovers, children — they’re all fair game if you’ve got something your enemies want and you’re not giving it to them. They can use these connections against you physically and psychologically. The closer the bond you have with the person your adversaries have chosen to dangle over a metaphorical (or literal) vat of boiling acid, the more likely you are to crack under interrogation. This is why the best spy candidates come from less-than-ideal home lives, or are completely estranged from their families. It might as well be a box you have to check on the application. _

_ Of course, when you’re a  _ burned _ spy and you’ve been dumped in your hometown with your mother, ex-lover, and ex-operations partner, you don’t always have the ability to separate your loved ones from your work. They manage to worm their way into things regardless, and once you’ve finally adjusted to them being around on a permanent basis, they somehow manage to drag even  _ more _ people into the thick of it, which can sometimes create… challenges. _

*******

The three of them had eaten dinner together at Carlito’s. In typical fashion Sam had thrown back the last of his third mojito and scurried away before the bill came, off to bestow his various and sundry charms on his most recent feminine conquest. Michael settled them up and then he and Fiona wandered down the street together in the beautiful May evening. It was still light out at seven o’clock and the weather was as close to perfect as Miami ever really got — warm but not hot, humid but not asphyxiating. With nothing in particular to do and nothing to return to but the sweltering heat of the loft after it had been baking in the sun all day they meandered with no destination in mind, silently enjoying each other’s company. Eventually they stopped on one of the myriad bridges crisscrossing the city, overlooking a waterway that led to the sea, surrounded by a sandy bank dotted with mangroves. Michael looked out toward the water while Fiona leaned her back on the bridge railing and watched the cars go by, half out of interest and half out of instinct.

“Michael?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re standing on top of one of my caches right now.” Michael didn’t respond, just nodded. Fiona continued. “That’s a secret from me. Now it’s your turn." 

She turned halfway towards him, still leaning on the railing, smug grin on her face and challenge in her eyes. Michael gave her a look, half appraising, half exasperated, then put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, looking back out towards the water. 

After a split second Fiona saw his eyes narrow. “Oh, come  _ on _ , Michael!”

“Fi.”

“It’s always like this with you! You just  _ can’t _ —”

“ _ Fi _ .”

“What?”

He pointed towards a group of mangroves. “I think there’s a kid down there.”

“It’s probably just a racoon.”

“I’m pretty sure racoons don’t wear dresses.”

Fiona turned fully towards the water and looked hard where Michael was pointing. They waited a minute or two and then the figure of a little girl dashed between mangrove stands and disappeared again. Looking at each other in silent understanding they headed to the edge of the bridge where there was a steep path down the embankment. Making their way down and padding along the sand bank they reached the last place they’d seen the girl, and they didn’t have to look very hard for signs of which way she could have gone — the path was obvious, tiny footprints in the sand leading to a clump of mangroves and into the tangle of roots. They looked at each other for a moment before Michael tossed his head in the direction of the bushes, lifting an eyebrow. 

Fiona shook her head, motioning him to go first.

Michael whispered, “It’s a little girl.”

“So?”

“So she’s a she, and you’re a she.”

“For God’s sake, Michael!” Fiona spat, almost forgetting to keep her voice down. 

Michael just looked at her, wide-eyed and helpless. 

She glared at him and hissed, “You know I don’t do well with the touchy-feely stuff!”

“Please, Fi,” Michael implored.

Fiona rolled her eyes and headed to where the final footprint was. She knelt down, Michael slightly behind her mirroring her actions. Huddled as far away from the entrance to the root structure as possible was a tiny girl with terrified eyes — one of them with the remnants of an impressive shiner.

Fiona murmured, “There you are, little one. We saw you from the bridge. What are you doing all alone down here?” The girl’s eyes flicked from Fiona to Michael and back to Fiona, but she didn’t move or speak. Fiona continued, “It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you. We want to help you. Will you come out of there so we can do that?”

“You can’t stay here,” said Michael, smiling his most sympathetic smile. “When the tide comes in all of this will be underwater. It’s dangerous.” The little girl’s eyes had widened and her breathing quickened when he spoke, so even more gently he said, “We just want to help. No one’s going to hurt you. It looks like someone’s done enough of that already, and there’s no way we’ll give you back to them, okay? We’ll fix this. I promise.”

Fiona extended a hand to the girl and whispered, “He never breaks a promise.”

The child flicked her eyes back and forth between them again nervously and then looked around, presumably for an opening in the roots that would allow her to escape. 

Fiona tried again. “I’m Fiona, and this is Michael. We help people. It’s our job. We’ll make sure you’re safe. Please let us help you, sweetheart.”

Fiona reached out with both hands this time. The girl looked around herself again but she seemed to come to the conclusion fairly quickly that she was trapped — nowhere to go but towards Michael and Fiona. Painfully slowly, she edged toward the hole in the mangrove roots, still looking for a way to make a break for it if she got a chance. 

Fiona didn’t let her find an opening. As soon as she was close enough, Fiona picked her up as gently as possible. Out in the light the extent of her injuries was even more obvious. At least a dozen more bruises, newer than the one on her eye, and one long, open cut on her upper arm were visible now. Fiona looked the girl over as best she could, and the girl looked at the ground, flinching visibly even at Fiona’s softest touch.

“I’ll go get the car.”

“Good idea,” said Fiona. “We’ll make our way up after you.”

Michael jogged off to get the Charger and Fiona looked at the silent child in her arms. “What’s your name, little one?” 

The girl didn’t answer or even make eye contact. 

“How old are you?” Fiona tried. 

The girl looked up at Fiona for a split second before looking away again and holding up four fingers. 

“Four? My goodness, you  _ are _ a big girl!” Fiona started back towards the bridge slowly, afraid to jostle her charge too much and cause her any more pain, but also afraid to put her down in case she bolted off. “Well, we’ll get you somewhere safe and take care of that cut, okay? You’re going to stay with us until we figure out just where you came from and where you’re going to go.”

Fiona picked her way up the embankment hanging on to the child who was completely stiff in her arms as if she was trying to make as little contact as possible with the woman carrying her. Michael’s timing was perfect, as usual, and he pulled up just as they reached the top. Fiona got in the back seat with the girl and Michael pulled away.

“Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Turn left at the next light, please.”

“Why?”

“We need to make a stop.”

“Really, Fi? Now?” Michael knew where Fiona was detouring him, and it usually meant purse-carrying or hanging out in the car for an indeterminate amount of time.

“She’s going to need something else to wear, Michael.”

“Oh.” Michael clearly hadn’t thought of that. He turned and made his way to the shopping center.

Fiona leaned over the seat and said quietly, “Are we taking her to the loft or to Maddie’s?”

“The loft,” said Michael solidly, but softly enough that only Fiona would hear. 

“Are you sure? I mean, Maddie’s much better with children than either of us.”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t want… Mom doesn’t need to see her like this.”

“Okay.” Fiona acquiesced. She knew that the child’s condition had to be affecting Michael far more than he would ever let on, and she knew he was right about the impact it would have on his mother, too.

“Did you get her name?” Michael asked.

“No, but when I asked her how old she was she held up four fingers.”

“Well, that’s something at least.”

Fiona sat back and contemplated the little girl. She was a heartbreaking sight, so tiny and so horribly abused. Fiona was already plotting the drawn-out and very unpleasant demise of whoever had done these things to the child sitting next to her while at the same time trying not to let her anger show lest the girl misinterpret it and think it was directed at her. 

About five minutes later, Michael pulled into the lot of the shopping center and parked. Before Fiona got out she reached over carefully, cringing internally as the girl shuddered and pulled away, and checked the label on the little sleeveless dress she was wearing and the bottoms of her shoes for sizes.

“I’m going to go pick up a couple of things so you have something to change into. You stay here with Michael, okay? I’ll be back soon.” Fiona started to get out of the car but stopped and turned back. “What’s your favorite color?” 

The girl pointed at her dress. 

“Green?” Fiona asked, and the girl nodded once. “Glad I asked. I was going to guess purple.” 

The girl held up two fingers at this and looked up at Fiona through her lashes. 

“That’s your second favorite?” 

Another single nod. 

“Good to know,” said Fiona. “I won’t be long.”

Once Fiona closed the car door and started towards the shops, Michael turned to look at his miniscule passenger. She seemed small for four. She was so little, in fact, that her feet barely cleared the edge of the seat. She had looked resolutely down at her lap after Fiona left and Michael took the opportunity to study her a little more closely. 

Her black eye was half-faded and there was a scar on the left side of her lower lip that extended halfway to her chin which had clearly been there for a while, but the majority of her bruises were fairly fresh. They’d been given to her with abandon, no pattern, and certainly no holding back. The cut on her arm stood out, though, it didn’t seem to fit with the rest of her injuries — Michael stored that away for later. He was intimately familiar with what she had experienced and he was certain that if what was visible of her was this abused, what might be lurking underneath the sundress she wore was more than he wanted to think about. Fiona was going to be the one to find out, and he didn’t envy her the task. Michael knew that the little girl would be at the least wary — at worst, terrified — of him for a while, and if he wanted to be able to get anything out of her that would help him figure out how she’d gotten this way and who had done it, he knew he’d better start trying to win her trust.

“Do you want to play a game?” he asked quietly. The girl looked up at him and visibly shrank, trying to push herself back into the seat as Michael reached into his pocket. He pulled out a dollar bill and showed it to her before putting it on the dashboard. Pointing to the clock underneath it, he said, “If the big hand gets all the way to the twelve before Fi gets back,  _ you _ get to keep the dollar. If she makes it back before that,  _ I _ get to keep the dollar. Make sense?”

The little girl nodded once. 

Michael knew how Fiona shopped which was why he’d situated the bet the way he had. He’d be very surprised if she made it back to the car before eight o’clock. They sat and watched, and the closer it got to eight the more movement he saw from his little companion. She was looking back and forth from the clock to the shops with an unreadable expression, even to Michael, who could have died multiple times at this point if he’d read someone incorrectly. He silently hoped he hadn't made the wrong call with this game. At seven-fifty-nine, they saw Fiona headed back towards them.

“Uh-oh! So close!” Michael smiled. “Do you think she’ll make it here in time?”

Fiona was walking at a clip but Michael managed to catch her eye, subtly signaling in front of his chest for her to slow down. Fiona quirked an eyebrow but did what he had silently asked, making a show of dropping a bag and having to stop to pick it up.

“Oh no,” Michael groaned in mock-frustration. “Come on, Fi!”

As Fiona opened the car door the clock ticked over to eight-oh-one and Michael let out a theatrical sigh. “Fi! You just lost me a dollar!” He pulled the bill off the dash and handed it back to the girl. “Fair’s fair, you win.”

She shook her head, not moving to take the bill from his hand.

“No? But you won!” 

She shook her head again as Fiona settled into the seat beside her.

“Well, it’s still yours. We’ll find something to put it in for you when we get home.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything. They drove back to the loft in silence and Fiona carried the little girl upstairs as Michael locked the gate behind them. He brought up two bags Fiona had left behind, honestly surprised that she hadn’t bought more, and deposited them outside the bathroom door when he entered the loft and heard the shower running.

“Fi!”

“Yes?”

“Rest of the bags are out here.”

“Thanks!”

Michael headed to the fridge, took out a yogurt, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and dialed Sam.

“Kinda busy here, Mikey, this had better be important.”

“It is. I need you to get in touch with your PD buddy. I want anything you can find on domestic disturbance calls in a ten-mile radius of the bridge down the block from Carlito’s, and missing children — females.”

“What’ve we got, Mike?”

“A four year old girl. She’s in bad shape, Sam.”

There was silence on the line for a moment. Michael knew that Sam was well aware that this was something he was likely to take very seriously and very,  _ very _ personally. 

Sam let out an angry breath. “I’m on it, brother. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Michael put his phone on the counter and retrieved an empty pickle jar from the trash. He heard the shower shut off as he washed it, Fiona’s voice a murmur, talking to the little girl. He dried the jar, set it on the counter, and dropped the dollar bill into it before returning to his yogurt. 

After a while Fiona came out of the bathroom, followed by the child who looked much cleaner and a little bit more at ease. There was a gauze bandage around the cut on her arm and she was wearing a new pair of pajamas, a little shorts and tank set, gray with mint green polka dots. When they reached the bed Fiona started turning it down, getting rid of the bedspread altogether — it was too warm. She waved the little girl over, and she laid herself down close to Fiona’s side but not touching. Fiona covered her with the sheet, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Try to get some sleep, little one.”

The child obediently closed her eyes and curled herself up a bit. Much to Michael’s surprise, Fiona continued to stroke her hair until the girl finally relaxed into the touch, and kept doing so until her breathing became rhythmic and soft. When she was sure the girl was asleep Fiona got up carefully from the bed and joined him at the kitchen counter, resting her head on his shoulder.

“If you thought what you could see was bad, what you couldn’t see was worse.” 

A tear landed on Michael’s shirt. He slid an arm around her and managed to control his voice enough to ask, “How bad?”

“Bad, Michael,” Fiona whispered. “She’s just covered in bruises. Her whole little body.” She looked up at him, anger and sadness equal forces in her eyes. 

Michael’s jaw clenched and he swallowed hard. “I’ve got Sam looking into who she is and where she came from. We’ll keep her here until we know more, in case whoever’s responsible for her condition is looking for her. And until we can take her outside without someone calling CPS.”

Fiona nodded. With a sigh she returned to the bed and laid down next to the girl, who rolled towards the movement in her sleep and then settled again, a hairsbreadth from Fiona. 

Michael looked at the two of them for a minute — his irascible, on-again-off-again lover, and the tiny child they’d pulled out of a mangrove swamp. The fact that he wasn’t currently trying to calm Fiona down from a murderous rage was a relief, but an unexpected one. She had always flown off the handle in cases like this, and he wondered what was different this time. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t helped their fair share of kids since they’d set up shop in Miami. But then, this was the first child they were going to have to find a home for when the job was done.  _ This could get complicated _ , he thought.

Silently he moved to his green chair and switched off the light.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael was at the kitchen counter the next morning when the little girl awoke. “Good morning.” He smiled at her.

She looked around, confused for a moment but then seeming to remember where she was. She looked at Michael and then looked around again.

“Fi went out to pick up a few things. She’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

The child blinked at him. 

Michael had no idea what to do with her. 

“Do you—” he started, at a loss. Four year old girls were  _ not _ his area of expertise. Russian spetsnaz? Fine. Turkish hit squads? Great! Drug dealers, slum lords, and mob bosses? Bring ‘em on! But this tiny kid was utterly perplexing to him. He’d  _ told _ Fiona it was a bad idea to leave her here with him alone, but she’d just rolled her eyes and said  _ Michael, she’s just a little girl. Think about Nate when he was that age or something. You’ll be fine. _ He wasn’t convinced, but if he didn’t figure something out he was pretty sure the kid wouldn’t move from the spot she was currently occupying. It was obviously something she had trained herself to do, and that was so far from healthy and, hell,  _ fair _ , that Michael felt he had to at least try. 

“If you … look, you’re probably going to be here with us for a while. You can go anywhere inside on this level and out on the balcony, okay? Just not out the front door or up the metal stairs. At least not without one of us.” She looked at him timidly and he smiled at her. “It’s okay.”

She started to stand up, still looking at him like she expected him to change his mind, but the smile stayed on his face and he quietly said, “Atta girl, go ahead.”

Breaking the gaze they’d been sharing she stood all the way up — a bit stiffly and with a little wince — and walked the length of the loft, footfalls completely silent, closing the bathroom door behind herself. After a short minute Michael heard the toilet flush. He busied himself with his phone and watched the bathroom door out of the corner of his eye. It opened and the girl came out, looking around. She spotted a group of paint cans against the wall and walked over to them, lifting them one by one until she found one she could carry, then heaved it back into the bathroom. Curious, Michael wandered over. She’d left the door open this time and he leaned against the frame. She was washing her hands, standing on the paint can so she could reach the sink.

Michael grinned. “Good thinking.”

She started a little at his voice and then looked at him shyly for a second as she started to brush her teeth, holding her hair back from her face with one hand. 

Worried she might fall off the paint can, Michael stepped up behind her slowly and said, “Here, let me.” He reached out carefully, making sure she could see his hands in their reflection in the mirror, and took hold of her hair for her.

She paused momentarily, the terrified look returning to her eyes, but didn’t resist. Her other hand now free, she gripped the edge of the counter for balance and finished cleaning her teeth. When she put her toothbrush down she reached for a hairbrush a little further along the counter, contemplating it for a minute like she knew she ought to use it but wasn’t quite sure how.

Michael’s quiet voice broke the silence. “Do you need some help?”

She flicked her eyes up to meet his in the mirror.

He held a hand out and she gave him the brush, looking for all the world like she was ready to bolt any second. Moving as slowly as he could, Michael fluffed her hair out a little from where he’d been holding it. Starting at the ends, he brushed carefully through the tangles, moving in sections up towards her scalp, silently thanking the ether for Fiona’s devotion to appearances — he’d seen her do this to herself enough times he was confident in applying the technique. 

The girl’s hair had a gentle curl to it and it was softer than Fiona’s, but it untangled relatively easily and he was done quite quickly.  _ Should probably do something with it to keep it out of her way, _ he thought. Taking the hair elastic that was wound around the handle of the brush, he moved it to his wrist and gathered the child’s hair at the nape of her neck, weaving it into one long simple braid down her back. Michael’s mind drifted to Samantha — his ex-fiancé and ops partner on his stint in St. Petersburg in ‘97.  _ Never thought I’d be saying thank you to her broken arm and the two weeks we spent stranded in a slipshod snow shelter on the Finnish tundra.  _ He very quickly tried not to think about the other things that happened on the tundra that January, before the weather had let up enough for them to be able to make their move across the border to Russia. Bringing his mind back to the task at hand, he tied the end of the braid off with the hair elastic, ran the brush through the tail of the braid for good measure and then wound it around his finger, forming it into one perfect ringlet. The child had stood completely motionless throughout, and as he set the brush down next to her hand Michael realized she was gripping the countertop hard enough to make her tiny knuckles white. He looked at her face in the mirror. It was shocked, as though she couldn’t believe he’d used the hairbrush for its intended purpose rather than as an implement with which to smack her around. 

Her face morphed into something like gratitude, and, keeping her eyes on his in their reflection, she tentatively reached a hand towards Michael’s, laying it on top of his fingers, barely touching. 

Michael slowly turned his hand over and wrapped his fingers carefully around her little hand, now nestled in his palm. “You’re welcome. Let’s go see what Fi got for you to wear.”

The girl nodded her single nod and hopped off the paint can — letting out a huff of breath and grimacing when she landed — but she shook it off and followed Michael back to the other end of the loft. He picked up one of the bags of things Fiona had bought the night before and started to dig through it, pulling out a pair of denim shorts and a little lavender top with cap sleeves, ruffled hems, and a tiny bow at the center of the neckline. He handed them to her and moved to his workbench where he could still see her in his periphery. Creepy as it felt, and not that he didn’t trust Fiona’s appraisal of the extent of the girl’s abuse, he still felt a need to confirm her conclusions. 

The child’s back was to him as she shed her pajamas, and for the brief minute she stood there in her underwear, Michael cataloged an untold number of bruises  — in all stages of the healing process, fresh to nearly gone — to add to the ones which were regularly visible. They peppered her body randomly and from her low back to the tops of her thighs seemed to be one continuous bruise, even though a portion of the discoloration was blocked from view by the fabric of her underwear. There were several groupings of darker, ovular bruises, probably made by fingertips digging into her skin, holding her still. Michael bit his lip and gripped the edge of the bench, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to quell the rage bubbling up inside him and bring his heart rate back down. He heard a shuffle and opened his eyes, turning to see her standing where he’d left her, holding the shorts up at her waist with one hand.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “Those are a little big, huh? Let’s see what we can do.”

He moved to her and knelt down. The shorts had a drawstring, and as Michael moved to adjust it they slipped down a little, revealing a matching pair of angry purple bruises at the girl’s hips. They looked suspiciously as though they had been made by thumbs, completing the handprints that began on her back, and Michael let out an angry breath without meaning to. Flicking his eyes up his stare met the girl’s; she had gone rigid and was looking at him wild-eyed. Carefully, Michael tied up the drawstring for her, but the instant he finished she took a few quick steps backwards, away from him.

Michael stayed where he was, mentally cursing himself.  _ Nice job. You freaked her out even more. You’re supposed to be trying to help her. _ Softly, he said, “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at whoever did this to you.”

She took another step back and bumped into the wall, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I know you’re scared, but you’re safe here, okay?”

She didn’t move.

“As long as you’re with us we’ll take care of you, and we’ll make sure the people who did this to you don’t ever find you. I know I can’t make you believe that, but can you try for me?”

Her eyes came open and she raised her head just enough to look at him.

Michael stood up slowly. Her eyes shut again as he closed the distance between them and he saw the moment she started to hold her breath.  _ What in the hell am I getting myself into? _ he thought.  _ I’m trained to plant the seeds of dissent to start military coups, not put broken little girls back together. I have  _ no _ idea what I’m doing! _ When he reached her he steeled himself and, for lack of a better idea, carefully picked her up. 

She stayed rigid.

_ Now what? What does she need?  _ He heard Fiona’s advice from earlier play back in his head.  _ Think about Nate when he was that age or something. _ He tried to remember, and the word ‘comfort’ flitted to the front of his mind. Figuring that was the best thing he’d think of for the moment, he looked at the little girl in his arms steadily and rubbed her back gently in what he hoped was a soothing manner until she  _ finally  _ looked up and into his eyes.

“Never again,” he said. “We’re going to make sure no one ever does those things to you again.” 

She blinked at him once.

“I promise.”

Then she subjected him to the most intensely searching stare he had ever experienced. 

Michael had been on the receiving end of some pretty fierce looks in his life — from foreign despots, military brass, deranged rogue agents (not to mention his own mother) — but none of those could have prepared him for the severity of the clear, sea glass eyes of a deeply wounded little girl trying to decide if he could be trusted.

And he’d never been so desperate for the decision to come out in his favor.

The look went on and on.  _ Come on, little one, give me something to work with, here. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in a little bit. _

As if she could hear his thoughts, something in her eyes changed. Agonizingly slowly, she lowered her head to rest against his shoulder. 

_ Thank you thank you thank you, _ Michael repeated in his mind. In unthinking relief he brought a hand up to cradle the back of her little head, resting a cheek on her hair. They stayed like that for a long stretch of silent minutes, the little girl gradually relaxing in his arms, until her stomach growled. Michael chuckled. “Breakfast time, maybe?”

He carried her to the kitchen and set her down on the counter. Opening the fridge, he was confronted with three beers, a half empty jar of pickles, and a lone blueberry yogurt.

“...Oh.” He pulled out the yogurt and a spoon and set it next to the girl. “Last one. It’s all yours.”

She blinked at him.

“It’s okay, you go ahead.” She was still looking at him, obviously worried, so he turned to his right and pulled out a second spoon. “How about we split it?”

He got a single nod and a tiny quirk of the corner of her mouth at this suggestion. He pulled the foil top off of the yogurt and handed it to her to lick. 

She did, and managed to get some yogurt on her nose in the process. 

Michael grinned. “You’re supposed to  _ eat _ it, not  _ wear _ it,” he said, the ease of the phrase rolling off his tongue surprising him. He wiped off the offending blob with his index finger. There was that little quirk of her mouth again, and just the tiniest flicker of a flinch this time.  _ Progress _ , he thought.

They shared the yogurt in silence, trading off spoonfuls. When it was close to finished Michael scraped down the sides of the cup and handed it to her. “Last bite’s for you.”

She took the cup and set about wrangling the last of the yogurt as Michael looked around. Fiona had gone out for kid supplies and would probably be gone for a while yet. His eyes landed on a pile of junk mail and he flipped it over, revealing the backs of the pages to be blank. He pushed the pile in front of one of the stools and then searched around for a pencil, which he put next to the paper. 

He saw the little girl watching him and said, “It’ll probably be a while before Fi gets back. I thought maybe you’d like to draw?”

A vigorous nod and half of a smile served as a response. Michael moved her from the counter to a stool and took a minute to get rid of their yogurt cup and clean their spoons. As he leaned over the counter to retrieve his phone and noticed a word at the top of the page on which the girl was drawing, and he turned his head to get a better view. The word was ‘Lily’, with the ‘y’ written backwards, but still clearly ‘Lily’.

“Lily?” Michael asked. 

The child looked up at him, completely surprised. 

He pointed at the word. “Is that you? Lily?” She nodded, and Michael smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.” 

She shyly smiled her half-smile back. 

“I have to make some calls, Lily, I’ll be right out here, okay?”

She nodded again and Michael walked out onto the balcony and dialed Fiona.

“Michael.”

“Our little girl’s name is Lily.” As soon as the sentence left his lips he grimaced, almost able to hear Fiona’s smirk on the other end of the line.

“ _ Our _ little girl, Michael?”

“Fi.”

“Don’t tell me that hardass, bulletproof, ace spy Michael Westen has discovered his domestic side—”

“ _ Fi _ .”

“--because if I come back to the two of you having a tea party, I’ll—”

“ _ Fiona _ !”

“Yes, Michael?” Fiona said innocently.

Michael rolled his eyes. “She likes to draw. Can you please pick her up some crayons and construction paper or something?”

“Of course. How did you figure out her name?”

“She wrote it at the top of her drawing.”

“Ah.”

Some movement caught Michael’s eye down by the gate. He watched Sam let himself in and head for the stairs, tossing his head in Michael’s direction when he saw him out on the balcony. “Hey, Fi?”

“Yes?”

“Can you get a step stool, too? She was standing on a paint can this morning to reach the bathroom sink.”

“Already got one.”

“Fi?”

“ _ Yes _ , Michael?”

“Thank you.”

He got an exasperated sigh in lieu of a goodbye and he hung up grinning. He walked back inside the loft as the front door flew open with a crash as it hit the wall behind it and Sam strolled in.

“Whoops. Keep forgetting it does that. Mornin’, Mikey! Bad news. My PD buddy is down for the count with some stomach virus that’s working its way through the department. He’ll be out for two or three days, probably, so it’s going to be a while before I can get you—” He stopped short. 

Michael stood in the balcony doorway, hands on hips, giving Sam a  _ seriously _ ? look, because the instant the door slammed open Lily had jumped down from the stool at the counter and dived under Michael’s green chair. 

“Oh shi—oot.” Sam adjusted mid-word when he saw the tiny, hunkered-down figure through the chair legs. “I figured you guys would have taken her to Maddie’s. I’m sorry, Mike.”

“Don’t apologize to  _ me _ ,” Michael chided as he knelt down next to the chair. “It’s okay, Lily. This is Sam. He’s a friend.” He reached for her and she crawled out from under the chair just enough to let him pick her up, letting out a sharp breath and cringing as he did. Michael tried to keep his grip on her as gentle as possible without dropping her “I promise you’ll get used to his grand entrances.”

Lily was eyeing Sam warily from where her head was resting on Michael’s shoulder, and he could feel her little heart racing. 

“I’m sorry, squirt, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sam wandered to the counter. “Hey, is this your drawing?” He pointed at the pile of papers. “This is pretty neat!”

Lily raised her head and was looking interestedly at Sam now which Michael took as a good sign. He set her carefully back on the stool but didn’t move away from her; she’d gripped a handful of his t-shirt and wasn’t letting go.

“Yeah, look at this, Mikey,” Sam continued. “We’ve got a starfish and a seahorse and some other fish up here — look, there’s even a pipefish in the eelgrass. This kid’s a regular Jane Cousteau!”

Michael had a thought. “Lily?” 

She looked up at him. 

“Do you know your last name?” 

She nodded. 

“Can you write it?” 

Lily frowned and shook her head, looking down and going rigid as though she was expecting to be punished for her lack of knowledge.

“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Michael tucked some flyaway hairs behind her ear. 

Lily caught his hand and looked at him, pulling her braid around the front and holding it towards him. 

He looked at her, puzzled. 

She pointed to the braid.

“Braid?”

Lily shook her head and fluffed the ringlet at the end of the braid with her finger.

“Tail?” Michael tried, only to get another head-shake from Lily. 

She pointed at her head.

“Hair, Mikey,” Sam said, and Lily nodded. “Sometimes you think too hard, brother.”

“Okay, hair. What about hair?”

Lily pointed to her name on her drawing and then to her hair.

“Last name has something to do with hair.”

“Barber?” Sam tried, but Lily shook her head.

“Hair… hair…” Michael turned the word over in his mind. “Harris?” Lily nodded, and Michael strung it together. “Lily Harris?”

She nodded again.

“Hey, good job, squirt, you just helped me narrow down a whole bunch of research!” Sam praised. 

They heard the gate open and a car drive in.

“Sounds like Fi,” said Michael.

“I’ll just make sure,” said Sam, and he walked to the door. 

As he opened it they heard Fiona call up, “Sam? I could use a hand!” and Sam shot Michael a martyred look before going out the door to help. 

Michael was a bit terrified of what Fiona could possibly be bringing up and exactly how much of it there was. 

When Fiona entered the loft a few seconds later, she was carrying a couple of bags over one shoulder and a large clear plastic box with accompanying lid, the requested step stool inside of it. She set all of it down by the bed and looked over to where Lily and Michael were at the counter.

“Where’s my Lily-girl, then?” Fiona walked over and plucked Lily off of the stool. Michael saw the brief look of dismay cross her face when Lily automatically stiffened up, but she quickly summoned up a convincing grin and said, “I’m so glad we know your name now!”

Sam stumbled back in then, laden with several more bags and a set of plastic organizer drawers. He set it all down with a thump next to the things Fiona had brought up.

“Geezus, Fi, did you leave anything at the store?”

“Nope. Delivery truck comes in half an hour.”

Sam and Michael stared at her, stunned.

“I’m  _ kidding _ !” She looked at Lily in her arms, rolled her eyes, and harrumphed, “ _ Boys _ ! Honestly!” as she wandered to the bed and settled the two of them down. She tugged one of the bags up in front of them and started removing items. “Michael said you like to draw — I got you all sorts of things!” Fiona pulled out a couple of drawing pads in different sizes, and box after box of crayons, markers, and colored pencils. “There were so many to choose from, I just decided not to choose.”

Sam and Michael watched as Lily looked from Fiona to the pile and then back to Fiona, her eyes big as saucers, like she’d never seen a pile of art supplies that large in her whole four years. Carefully, she reached out a hand like she had with Michael earlier and laid it on top of Fiona’s, barely touching.

Once that tiny hand made contact with hers, Fiona took it the same way Michael had that morning and wrapped her other arm around the little girl, pulling her close, waiting for her to relax, and then saying, “You’re very welcome, Lily-girl.”

“Fi.”

Fiona looked at Michael over Lily’s head. “Hmm?”

Michael tossed his head in the direction of the balcony.

Fiona let go of Lily reluctantly. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Lily looked at her shyly, but then turned her attention to the boxes in front of her and Fiona joined the boys on the balcony.

“So fill me in, here. Where exactly did she come from anyway?” Sam asked quietly, not wanting Lily to overhear.

“We took a walk after dinner last night. Saw her down in the bushes under the bridge by Carlito’s.”

“I’m kind of surprised she let you catch her, Mikey, I mean…” Sam didn’t have to finish the thought.

“Fi managed that,” said Michael, and Fiona nodded.

“Does she talk at all?” Sam asked.

“She hasn’t said anything to me. Fi? Anything last night when you were cleaning her up?”

“Not a word. Not even a  _ noise _ . She never even cried, and I know it had to hurt when I was flushing out that cut on her arm.” Fiona bit her lip.

Sam seemed to consider this information for a moment, and then said, “Well, she’s definitely not slow.”

“No,” Michael agreed. “She’s pretty sharp, actually. I bet she  _ can _ speak, she’s just choosing not to. I’ve seen it before. When he was little Nate used to go silent for days after Dad went on a bender.”

“So you think it’s a reaction to the trauma, maybe?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Fiona’s voice was viciously quiet. “When we find whoever did this to her, I’m going to—”

“Fi,” Michael cut her off. “Trust me, we know.”

Michael laid a hand at the small of her back as she took a shaky breath, brushing her hair back from her face and looking up, trying to regain her composure. After a few more breaths she turned to Sam.

“What did your police pal find out?”

Sam sighed. “Nothing. He’s got a virus and he’s out for a day or two. I’ll circle back with him later. Now that we’ve got her full name, though, I’ll spend some time with the press archives, see if I turn up anything that way. I’ll get on that this afternoon.”

Fiona asked, “How did you get her last name? Did she write that, too?” 

“No,” said Michael. “She pantomimed it in a pretty impressive display of charades.”

“Well,” said Sam, “I’d better get a move on. Those back issues aren’t going to search themselves, you know.”

“See you, Sam.”

“Later, brother. Bye, Fi. Bye, Lily!” Sam smiled at the little girl on his way to the door. 

Lily popped up from the bed and took a few steps towards him, but he’d turned away immediately after saying goodbye and didn’t see her.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?” Sam turned back towards them and stopped when he saw Lily. “Oh. What’s up, squirt?”

She stopped just out of easy reach and handed a piece of paper towards him. 

Sam knelt down and took it from her. “For me?” 

Lily nodded. 

“Hey, wow!” Sam smiled. It was the drawing she’d been doing when he’d showed up. “You added some color and everything!” He looked at her and they locked eyes. “Thank you, Lily. I know just where I’m going to put it.”

Lily looked back, shifting from foot to foot for a second, until she finally decided to give her little half-smile in return before darting back to the bed and pulling her legs up to her chest, peeking at him over the tops of her knees.

Sam grinned even wider as he got up to leave. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Fiona moved back to the bed after Sam shut the door behind himself, flopping down on her belly. “I just remembered something else I got you.” She pulled over another bag, retrieved a stuffed hippo dressed in a sparkly purple tutu, and held it out to Lily. “She was sitting all alone on her shelf, just like you were all alone yesterday. I thought you’d be good friends for each other.”

Lily carefully uncurled herself and timidly reached for the hippo, snuggling it up to her chest once she got hold of it, looking at Fiona the same grateful way she had earlier. Then she yawned.

Fiona asked, “Tired, Lily-girl?” 

Lily nodded. 

“Let’s have a bit of a snooze, then.” She patted the bed as an invitation for Lily to curl up next to her.

Michael watched as Lily laid down. There was an uncanny resemblance between Lily and Fiona, and he found himself wondering what Fiona had looked like at Lily’s age, and what Lily would look like when she got older.  _ Not that you’ll ever know. But someone will. Someone who can care for her the way she needs. _

“Fi,” he said.

Fiona lifted her head to look at him.

“I’m going out for groceries. I’ll be back.”

 

**~~~**

 

Sam showed up again the following afternoon, entering the loft with significantly less force and noise than the previous day. Michael was at the workbench cleaning Fiona’s Walther, and Fiona had Lily out on the balcony where she was applying an exceptionally glittery purple polish to the little girl’s toenails.

“What did the papers say, Sam?”

“Oh-ho, boy, you’re not gonna believe this, Mikey. Let’s get Fi in here, she’s gonna wanna hear this, too.”

“Fi!” Michael called.

Looking up and seeing Sam with a file in his hand, Fiona turned to Lily and said, “Stay out here while they dry, okay?” When she joined them at the workbench Fiona asked, “Got something, Sam?”

“This is too good, you guys. It’s incredible! I almost don’t believe it, but it seems to check out.”

“What is it, Sam?” Michael was getting impatient.

“That tiny kid sitting out there is a  _ first class spook _ !” Michael and Fiona were staring at him blankly, but Sam was obviously enjoying this too much to wait for a response. “The kid made herself disappear! Look.” He started spreading articles on the work surface and pointed to the date at the top of one of them. “We heard about this four days ago — that dealer who beat the crap out of his girlfriend, killed her, and then shot himself? Well,” he said, laying down another photocopy, “turns out his name was Josh Harris. There was a child who had been seen at the residence by the neighbors — little girl, toddler-sized, long brown wavy hair, blue eyes. The police who investigated found evidence of a child, including some bloody clothes hidden under a bed, but they never found  _ her _ . They put out a missing persons memo, trawled the nearby canals, you know, the usual stuff, but reclassified the case from ‘Suspicious Circumstances’ to ‘Unknown’ last night when they still hadn’t come up with anything. It has to be her. I mean, I’ll double check it with my PD buddy, but it has to be her!”

“If this checks out, I want you to get me details on any possible extended family, a birth certificate, the works. Can you do that, Sam?”

“Should be able to, yeah. What do you have in mind?”

Michael’s jaw was set, fire in his eyes. “I’m not handing her over to anyone I don’t think will care for her the way she deserves.”

“I’m with you on that, brother. I’ll see what I can get.” Sam rested a hand on Michael’s shoulder before picking up his copies. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go spend some time with a very special lady.”

Both Michael and Fiona expected him to leave then but were surprised when he handed the folder off to Fiona and proceeded towards the balcony with a “Hey, squirt!”

Michael watched him go, smiling and shaking his head. “Uncle Sam,” he said.

Fiona put the folder down. “Michael, what are we going to do with her?”

“I’m hoping Sam’s research will turn up a family member who doesn’t have a rap sheet.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“I don’t know, Fi,” Michael said quietly. “We’ll have to figure that out when we get there.”


	3. Chapter 3

*******

_ All safe houses are well stocked with the bare essentials which is fine for a night or two, but anything longer than that and you have to combat cabin fever, both for the people you’re protecting and the people guarding them. Boredom breeds friction, friction breeds conflict, and conflict attracts attention, which is exactly what you’re trying to avoid with a safe house in the first place. A deck of cards, a pile of paperbacks or magazines, or even a book of crossword puzzles can do wonders for staving off boredom and mitigating any potential unpleasantness. _

_ Of course, when your charge is four you have to take a more active role in their entertainment, and sometimes you have to bend the cardinal rule of ‘don’t leave the premises under any circumstances’. _

*******

It was another couple of days before Sam was able to get in touch with his PD contact. Lily had been holding up reasonably well. Fiona had bought her some books and a set of magnetic tiles to build things with for when she got tired of drawing. Between her and Michael they’d managed to keep Lily as entertained as possible, but she was four, and she had energy reserves, and she was getting restless.

“Michael.” Fiona was looking down from the office at Lily who was sprawled on her tummy on the bed, one foot hanging off the side jostling back and forth as she drew. “We need to get her out of this place for a while. She’s going stir crazy.”

Michael spoke softly so that Lily wouldn’t overhear. “We can’t, Fi, not yet. She still looks a little… questionable. That arnica you bought is working wonders but people still might get nosy.”

Fiona decided to brave the minefield. “We could take her to your mom’s.”

“ _ No _ ,” Michael said adamantly. “Absolutely not.”

“I know you didn’t want to take her there before because she was in such bad shape, but you just admitted that she looks a little better now. We can get her from the car to the house without anyone seeing her, and she can run herself ragged in the back yard. Come on, Michael, you know she needs to get out for a bit.”

“We can’t take her to Mom’s.”

“Why not?” Fiona’s voice was hard, her eyes steely. “We take clients there all the time. Lily needs a change of scenery. I’m not suggesting we leave her there, Michael, and we  _ have _ left children with Maddie before!”

Michael gave her a look.

“Michael,” Fiona grabbed a permanent marker off the desk and pulled the cap off menacingly. “Either we take her out  _ somewhere _ , or you’re getting a permanent hopscotch court on your hardwood.”

“We’ve left kids with Mom before who had families to go back to when the job was done. So far as we know, Lily has no one. I don’t need Mom getting attached.” 

“You say that as if we haven’t gotten a little attached ourselves.” Michael gave her another look, and she immediately shot back in a terse whisper with, “No, of course not. Michael Westen doesn’t get attached. He does the job and then he disappears. I forgot.”

“Fi, think about what we do for a living! I don’t even like you and Sam having to deal with the things that come with being close to me, much less Mom and Nate, when he’s around anyway. Mom isn’t going to see the big picture. She’s just going to see a little girl without a family, and she’ll simply ignore the fact that putting a child in a situation like ours on a permanent basis is completely irresponsible. This isn’t like keeping a stray puppy, Fi. She’s a little girl. It’s too dangerous.”

“That’s not even the point right now! Just a couple of hours at Maddie’s, Michael, please. Surely Lily’s wellbeing trumps your reluctance to deal with your mother’s compassion?”

“ _ Fi _ —” Michael was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Yeah, Sam?”

Fiona stared him down, drawing concentric circles with the marker on a legal pad. 

Michael stared back.

“Hey. I’ve got the records you wanted on Lily. I’m on my way over.”

“Thanks.” Michael watched Fiona start down the metal stairs from the office to the main portion of the loft, brandishing the marker. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take those over to Mom’s? We’ll meet you there.”

“Sure thing.”

Fiona turned back to Michael, smiling smugly in victory as he ended the call with Sam and dialed Madeline.

“Michael!”

“Hey Mom,” Michael said, employing his best ‘good-son’ voice. “Sam’s on his way over and Fi and I will be there soon. I thought we could all have dinner.”

“Michael,” Madeline’s no-nonsense tone rang clear through the phone. “You never volunteer to bring your friends over here purely for social calls. What’s going on?”

Michael looked at Fiona and her raised eyebrow. “We’re bringing a client, too.”

“One who needs a place to stay while the three of you run around playing Robin Hood?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh?”

“This one’s a little… different. You’ll see when we get there, okay?”

“Okay, well, come on over then.”

“See you in a bit, Mom.” Michael hung up, glaring at Fiona, who wordlessly recapped the marker and put it on the desk.

 

**~~~**

 

Michael parked the Charger around the side of the house so they could go in the kitchen door. He went in first, followed by Fiona with Lily on her hip and a bag slung over her shoulder full of drawing supplies and Lily’s stuffed hippo. Sam and Madeline were drinking beers at the dining table.

“Hi you two!” Madeline got up to say hello. There was the briefest moment of shock that crossed her face when she saw Lily but she managed to chase it away almost immediately with an enormous grin. “Hi you  _ three _ ! Who’s this?”

“Mom, this is Lily.”

“Hi, Lily! Are you having fun with Fiona and Michael and Sam, sweetheart?”

Lily had gone stiff in Fiona’s arms, but she made eye contact with Madeline and nodded shyly. 

Fiona handed the bag to Michael. “Maddie, we’re going to borrow the back yard if that’s okay. She’s been cooped up at the loft for a while and she’s overdue for getting her wiggles out.”

“Oh, go ahead, honey. Enjoy yourselves!”

Fiona took Lily outside and Madeline turned to her son. “Please tell me that when you find the people who did that to that poor little girl—”

“No need,” Sam interrupted. “They’re dead. I was right, Mikey, she belonged to that dealer and his girl.” He waved a manila folder.

“Thanks, Sam. We’ll look at it later.”

“All right, brother.” Sam got up to get another beer.

“Michael, are you saying that she doesn’t have parents?”

“She’s better off without the ones she had,” Michael said quietly.

For a moment, Madeline said nothing. Then she reached out and cupped Michael’s cheek with her hand, stroking her thumb across the scars under his left eye. “I’m glad you found her.”

Michael reached up and laid a hand over his mother’s and they stayed like that until the moment was broken by a  _ PLINK  _ from outside. Michael went to investigate and Madeline joined Sam in the kitchen where they pretended not to eavesdrop.

Michael thumped down the back steps into the yard and was greeted with the sight of Fiona kneeling behind Lily, helping her to aim a child-sized slingshot at a group of soda cans lined up along a row of cinder blocks.

“Good, now just let go when you breathe out, and keep your wrist tight.” Fiona and Lily let go of the sling together and there was another  _ PLINK  _ as the rock hit a can and it toppled over. Lily looked over her shoulder at Fiona and grinned.

“See? It’s all in the breath!” Fiona praised.

“Fi,” Michael called, the grin on his face belying the daggers in his eyes. “Fi, can I talk to you for a minute, please?”

Fiona put a few stones in Lily’s pocket and said, “Keep practicing.”

Michael wound an arm around Fiona when she got to him and pulled her near as he said, “What are you  _ doing _ , Fiona?”

“Improving her hand-eye coordination and fine motor skills.”

There was an audible guffaw from just inside the door to the house which was immediately cut short by the sound of what Fiona and Michael both recognized as Madeline walloping Sam in the chest.

“Face it, Michael, it’s never too early to instill the skill of marksmanship.”

_ PLINK. _ Another can fell.

“Besides,” Fiona continued. “She’s not half bad.”

Michael let out a groan which turned into a laugh into Fiona’s hair, knowing he could voice all the reservations in the world and she would simply steamroll them and teach Lily anything she felt like teaching her. He nuzzled behind her ear and murmured, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I have a few ideas,” she replied.

Lily, meanwhile, had run out of stones. She put the slingshot down on one of the cinder blocks next to the cans she hadn’t managed to knock over and sidled over to Michael and Fiona, glancing up at Michael sideways and tapping his knee before scampering off to the far end of the yard.

“I think you’ve just been tagged, Michael.”

“We’ll see about that.” 

Michael took off after Lily as Madeline and Sam came out of the house. Sam handed Fiona a beer and Madeline sat down with her on the steps. They watched Michael chase Lily around for a few minutes until Lily broke for them and dashed around Sam with Michael on her heels. 

As he passed, Michael slapped Sam on the shoulder and shouted, “You’re it, Sam!”

“Oh, it is  _ ON _ , bucko!” Sam grinned and turned to Madeline. “Hold my beer.”

As soon as Sam joined the game Lily started to make a sound. It was crackly from disuse at first but it quickly blossomed into a twinkling giggle that bubbled up from somewhere in her tiny soul. As soon as Michael heard it his only thought was to keep it going, and he snagged Lily as she darted past him and tickled her until she wiggled away. Sam caught her next, grabbing her under her arms and swinging her around in a circle before tossing her into the air, making her shriek with giddiness. 

“That is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard,” Fiona said quietly. 

Madeline put an arm around her and they watched Michael and Sam wring every last laugh and squeal and breath from Lily until Sam called out, “Truce! Truce! I surrender!” and leaned with one hand on the side of the house, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Michael sprawled on his back on the lawn, still laughing, as Lily flopped down, too, her head landing on Michael’s chest.

“Ooph!” he grunted, reaching down and wrapping an arm around her, only realizing he’d done it when he felt Lily wriggle a little closer.

Sam snagged his beer back from Madeline and took a restorative gulp. “Well, whaddaya say, Mikey, time to go grab dinner?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“That means you have to move, brother.”

“Ugh, in a minute.” Michael laughed.

“Come on, Lily,” Madeline said warmly. “You can help me and Fiona set the table while the boys are gone.”

Lily rolled up and looked at Michael, who winked at her and said, “Go on.”

 

**~~~**

 

Lily was settled into a chair in the living room, drawing. Michael, Sam, and Fiona were crowded around the table looking at the contents of Sam’s folder. Madeline was pretending to do the dishes and putter in the kitchen with one ear on the conversation.

Sam was walking them through the intel. “Here’s the birth certificate you asked for. Lily Jolene Harris, born June 27, 2004, to Joshua William Harris and Darlene Adrienne Meyers, now deceased.” Sam placed the page aside. “Here’s Mommy and Daddy dearest,” he muttered disdainfully, laying out photos of Josh and Darlene — mug shots from prior arrests. “And here’s the report on the murder/suicide, the missing persons memo, and the subsequent redaction — Status: Missing, Presumed Dead.” Sam flipped over another set of reports. “Here’s a rundown of all known next-of-kin, but the gist of it is that the ones who aren’t dead are in prison.”

“Jesus,” whispered Michael.

Fiona bit her lip.

“There was one other thing worth noting — this guy,” Sam put another photo down, not a mug shot this time but a surveillance photo. “One Matthew Bates. He’s a tough customer, but he’s completely clean. The cops and the Feds can’t seem to pin anything on him, but it looks like he’s masterminding a pretty dark trade circuit around these parts. Drugs, guns...and kids. Girls. Rumor has it that Bates was seen leaving the Meyers-Harris residence with some of his goons shortly before Josh went on his rampage.”

Everyone jumped when a tiny voice came out of thin air.

“They tried to sell me to him.”

All eyes fell on Lily, who had silently appeared next to the table. She hadn’t made a sound since giggling herself silly outside with Michael and Sam, and hearing her voice form actual words for the first time was a surprise to all of them. 

Fiona recovered first and pulled Lily up onto her lap, wrapping her arms protectively around the little girl.

Lily’s eyes never left the photos and papers on the table. Now that she could reach she repeated herself, pointing at the photos as she did. “They tried to sell me to him. He came around all the time to buy the stuff. They thought he’d buy me, too. He said no, ‘cause I had these,” Lily pointed to the faded remnant of her black eye and then to the scar running from her lip to halfway down her chin, “an’ he said I was broke. No one wants something that’s broke.” 

She pointed to the photo of her late father. “He got mad when they left. Real mad. He yelled, an’ he hit me a lot. Then she got mad an’ started yelling because he sold all the stuff an’ she couldn’t get her fix. He stopped hitting me an’ started hitting her. I hid an’ I heard it happen but I didn’t see it an’ then there were lots of people. They looked for me but I hid for a really long time until they went away an’ then it was dark. I got out ‘cause I was hungry an’ I fell asleep on the sofa but then they came back in the morning an’ I hid again real fast. When they left that time I did, too, an’ hid by the water.” She looked up at Michael. “Then you came.”

Lily stopped talking and they were all silent for a minute, stunned by her detachment from her own story as much as its contents — not to mention the fact that she’d spoken at all. 

Michael and Lily stared at each other silently, until he stood abruptly, picked her up out of Fiona’s lap, and took her with him to the living room. He sat them down in an armchair facing each other. 

_ How? How are you not falling to pieces right now? How in the hell are you even still alive, Lily-girl? _ He gazed in complete awe at the little face in front of him, trying to keep himself together. Lily looked back as though she had no idea why he was so worked up.  _ None of that was normal, Lily. None of it. _ Michael was getting closer and closer to losing it completely and this seemed to be distressing Lily — he watched as her face went from confused to concerned to dismayed in record time, and when the first tear fell she gave her head a little shake, startled.  _ There it is, _ he thought.  _ Do you understand now? They didn’t give a flying fuck about you, but we do.  _

Lily blinked at him once more, sending another volley of tears down her cheeks, and then reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

Michael held her fiercely against his chest, resting his head on hers.

Madeline lit another cigarette and silently moved off to the back of the house. Sam got another beer. Fiona sat at the table, arms cradling her head as it rested on the cool wood surface.

It was easily ten minutes before Madeline returned. She slipped an arm around Sam who hugged her back with tenderness. She left Sam and moved to Fiona, smoothing her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Finally she made her way to Michael and Lily and sat down on the arm of the chair. 

Michael had managed to get himself under control by now and Lily had quieted, too. Madeline got her arms around both of them and rested her head on Michael’s. 

Lily, startled by the hug, pulled back, and Madeline and Michael somehow synced up with each other for a moment, each moving a hand to one of Lily’s little cheeks and thumbing away the residual wetness there. 

Madeline leaned over to one side and picked something up, and as it came into view, Michael whispered, “Wow.”

She held up a worn, faded book which looked as though it had been well-loved and looked at Lily. “This was Michael’s favorite book. We used to read it together. Would you like me to read it to you, sweetheart?”

Lily buried her face back into Michael’s shoulder. 

He hugged her again and whispered, “I’ll be right over there with Sam and Fi. Okay?” He felt Lily give a tiny nod against his chest. “Atta girl.”

Michael stood up and handed her off to Madeline, who settled into the vacated chair with Lily on her lap. Lily rested her head on Madeline’s shoulder tentatively at first, but relaxed as Madeline opened the book and started reading. “Shady Glade was a towering sycamore and a cluster of willows and cottonwoods along the banks of a winding creek. Early every spring...”

Sam had joined Fiona at the dining table and Michael sat down with them. None of them moved or spoke for a moment until Michael said, “Well, obviously we’re going after Bates.”

Sam pulled out another folder. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

The three of them devoured the contents of Sam’s file. Bates would be difficult to pin down, and they’d have to source some questionable materials if they wanted to be convincing, but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before. Eventually, Michael started arguing the merits of a two-man team on the buy side while Sam was insisted that ‘Chuck Finley’ needed to lone-wolf it so that they could try to fake a sale at the same time — and Fiona agreed — but Michael was unconvinced for the moment and they adjourned pending surveillance. 

Fiona got up and started to pack things into Lily’s bag. “Time to go, Lily-girl. Say goodnight to Mrs. Westen.”

Lily shifted in Madeline’s lap and carefully wrapped her arms around her neck, whispering, “‘Night,” in Madeline’s ear.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Madeline gave Lily a gentle squeeze and helped her down from the chair, shooing her towards Sam who had his arms out towards her.

“Whaddaya think, squirt? You got a hug for Uncle Sammy?”

Madeline pulled Michael aside. “Michael, I know what you’re going to say—”

“Mom—”

“No, Michael, just hear me out.” Michael gave Madeline a look but didn’t say anything more, so she continued. “I know that there are a lot of dangers that come with loving you. I’ve lived them. Fiona and Sam have lived them. But that’s the thing, honey, we’ve  _ lived _ . We’ve survived. That little girl needs you, Michael. She’ll live for you like the rest of us. She’s a lot like you, I can see it in her eyes. Just promise me that you’ll think about that before you decide to push her away to the mercy of adopters or the foster care system.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

Madeline sighed. “‘Night, honey.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was diving a little deeper into anything he could find on Bates. Fiona was trawling through her gun-running contacts to see what she could find out that way. Michael was at the loft pouring over the files on Bates and Lily, seeing what else he could glean from them. 

Lily was taking a nap, curled up with her stuffed hippo. 

She hadn’t been asleep too long when Michael heard rustling coming from the bed. He looked over, expecting her to have woken up, but instead he found her twitching and moving in her sleep. He watched for a minute to see if she’d settle down on her own but she just grew more agitated. She started to mumble, which grew into strangled bleats. It was clear that whatever she was dreaming about wasn’t nice. 

Since they’d brought her home Michael had been sleeping either in his green chair or up on the sofa in the office, leaving Fiona to share the bed with Lily mostly because he hadn’t wanted the child to be uncomfortable or scared. This wasn’t the first time Lily had suffered from nightmares, but it  _ was _ the first time Fiona wasn’t there to calm her down. Michael was going to have to field this one on his own. He considered picking her up, but Lily was starting to flail and he knew it might be disorienting to wake her too abruptly out of whatever dream-hell she was in so he lay down next to her and pulled her up against his side. She fought him momentarily in her sleep, but relaxed when he started talking quietly to her. 

“Shhh, Lily-girl, it’s just a dream. I’ve got you.”

Michael felt her droop a little and her breathing slowed. He’d reached a dead end with the files anyway, and he didn’t want Lily to fall back into her dream and get upset all over again so he moved himself gently into a more comfortable position and re-settled her against him. She snuggled closer in her sleep, nuzzling against him as she did.  _ Just until she wakes up, _ he thought.  _ No longer than that. _

When Fiona came in ten minutes later she was so overwhelmed by the sight of Michael with Lily asleep in his arms that she couldn’t even come up with anything snarky to say. She just closed the door quietly behind herself, kicked off her shoes, and curled up next to them.

“What did you find out, Fi?” Michael whispered.

“Shhh,” Fiona put a finger to his lips. “Later. Don’t wake her.” She moved a little closer and closed her eyes, resting her head next to Michael’s shoulder and taking hold of one of Lily’s hands. 

Michael rested his forehead on Fiona’s as she drifted towards sleep and forcefully reminded himself that it wouldn’t be long until he’d have to push all of this away for the sake of everyone involved.

Sam’s reaction when he walked into the loft about an hour later was much the same as Fiona’s had been, with the added bonus of finding her curled up with Michael and Lily completing the image of domesticity. He tiptoed to Michael’s green chair and settled in, putting his feet up on the little side table and grinning like a lunatic as they looked up at him — Michael almost sheepishly, Fiona with a glare of  _ You want to make something of it _ ?

Lily stirred at the squeak of the chair and opened her eyes a little, looking around and registering the people in the room with her. She smiled a sleepy smile and wriggled up against Michael a little tighter. He squeezed her for a second, then let her go and moved to get up. Lily pouted out her lower lip at this and Michael snorted a laugh, pushing her lip back into place with his index finger.

“Put that away.” He smiled.

Lily smiled back.

Fiona reached for Lily and pulled her into a snuggle. “S’my turn anyway,” she said, tucking Lily’s head under her chin.

Michael opened the fridge and took out two yogurts, waving one of them at Fiona and Lily, who shook their heads. He put the extra yogurt back and grabbed a beer for Sam. “So, what’ve we got?”

“Sounds like Bates only comes out for the heavy hitters. ‘Chuck Finley’ is going to have to want to buy big. Bates’ goons take care of the small-time stuff.”

“Okay, we can work with that. Fi?”

“I called in a favor. There’s a deal going down tomorrow. Warehouse District, eleven o’clock. Sounds like a small one, so if Sam’s intel is right Bates won’t be there. Could be a good opportunity to figure out how to get a man on the inside, though.”

“Fine. We’ll watch the deal play out tomorrow and regroup. Is the listening setup here or at your place, Fi?”

“I’ll check.” Fiona hopped up off the bed and headed up to the office.

Lily, suddenly bereft of a cuddle buddy, crawled up into Sam’s lap and he gave her a loving squeeze. 

“It’s not here, Michael, it’s got to be at mine.” Fiona looked down towards the rest of them. “Hey! I was coming right back!” she spluttered.

“Too late, sister. My turn now!” Sam and Lily grinned at each other.

“All right, Fi, you get the amplifier. Sam, you get onto Barry about account setup — we owe it to him to give him some advance notice — and fill him in on the situation, start to finish. I’ll call Mom.”

“Why?” asked Sam.

“Because we’re gonna need a sitter.”

 

**~~~**

 

*******

_ The thing about industrial compounds is that they are fantastic if you don’t want to be observed. Naturally, if you are the one needing to do the observing, you either have to work out how to get into the thick of things unnoticed or set up in several places at once to get the full visual. The first option means going in on foot which can be useful if you need to capture or kill one of your subjects, but if you’re simply watching and waiting and possibly following, you’re better off setting up an invisible perimeter of vehicles so that you can slip out after your targets quietly and tail them to their next destination.  _

_ This second option also has the added bonus of affording you an easy escape from cranky co-operatives. _

*******

Michael, Sam, and Fiona had taken separate cars, a fact for which Michael was immensely grateful at this point because it was bad enough listening to the two of them bicker directly into his ear via bluetooth on the open phone line the three of them were sharing, but he’d take that over the two of them picking at each other while occupying the same space he did any day.

“All I’m saying is that they’re scum and we’d all be a lot happier if we just killed them.”

“Fi, you know I agree with you about them being scum, believe me. I want to string ‘em up by their balls as much as you do, but we’ve been through this a thousand times. This way is better.”

“Guys,” said Michael.

“Would it kill you to be on my side just  _ once _ ?”

“It might. Your side includes an awful lot of C4.”

“ _ Guys _ .”

“C4 gets results.”

“Yeah, and removes body parts if not applied correctly!”

“I always make sure the missing body parts belong to the scum, Sam, you know that.”

“ _ GUYS _ !”

“Yes, Michael?” Fiona asked as innocently as possible.

“They’re here.”

A black SUV and a Town Car had converged in the predetermined spot between two buildings. Michael heard Fiona flip the switch on the amplifier and they all stayed quiet so they could hear. The deal went quickly and clinically with minimal talking from either side. All it really yielded were the names of two of Bates’ guys, but that was better than nothing. 

Once the goods and money were exchanged and the involved parties were returning to their vehicles, Michael said, “Okay, Sam, see what you can find on those two now that we have names.” 

“I’m on it, Mikey.”

“Fi, follow them and see where they go.”

“Already on the move. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to Mom’s. If I have to hang out with people who act like children, I’d rather it be an actual child.” He heard them both start to splutter indignantly as he disconnected and headed for Madeline’s.

 

**~~~**

 

Michael found his mother in the kitchen slicing an apple. He leaned against the counter and snatched a piece off the cutting board.

“Hey!” Madeline scolded. “That’s for Lily. If she doesn’t wake up on her own in about five minutes I’m going to wake her myself. I don’t want her napping so long she can’t sleep tonight.”

“How’s she doing, Ma?”

Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Outwardly? She’s an angel. Doesn’t make any trouble, hardly makes any noise, cleans up after herself, the works. But I keep remembering what made her this way and it breaks my heart. She doesn’t ask for anything. Hell, I practically had to conduct an interrogation to find out what she wanted for lunch! She won’t make a move unless she’s absolutely sure I’m not going to haul off and smack her for it. It’s awful.”

“That sounds about normal.” Michael sighed. “She’ll get used to you, and to being here. It took a while at the loft, too.”

“She has terrible dreams.”

“I know,” Michael said quietly. “She doesn’t wake up, but she’ll calm down if you hold her. Fi’s pretty good at it, actually.” He left out the part about the previous afternoon on purpose. Madeline had enough ammunition to keep leaning on him about this whole ‘what are we doing about Lily’ thing without him admitting to being able to comfort her himself.

“I figured it out — Nate was the same way, though I doubt you remember. She fell asleep on the sofa but once she started crying out I took her into your room and stayed with her a while. More space in the bed.”

As if on cue, a tiny voice came from down the hall. “Maddie?”

“Out here, baby!”

Lily walked silently into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning. As soon as she saw Michael her whole face lit up.

“Hey, Lily-girl.” Michael picked her up with the intention of putting her on the countertop, but once he got hold of her she hugged him hard and he found himself hugging back, trying to avoid the smug look on Madeline’s face.

 

**~~~**

 

Fiona had followed Bates’ lackeys to a bar. She knew she was purely backup on this job — it needed Sam on the buy and Michael on the sell — which meant that it didn’t matter if anyone saw her, so she went in and set herself up at a table near enough that she could hear them. She sat there for a couple of hours, waiting and watching while they had a leisurely lunch and a few drinks. Eventually they left, getting into separate cars and heading in different directions, leaving the SUV behind. Fiona took the opportunity to get a tracker on the SUV; that way they could pick up on where it went, if not who was driving it. She rather suspected that the bar was either owned by or under contract to Bates since, judging by the three other identical black SUVs in the lot, it seemed to be a drop point for ‘company cars’.

Sam had run the names they’d gotten that afternoon but came up with about as much as he had on Bates. They were assumed to be connected to him, but equally as clean — always on the suspect list, never actually pinned with anything. The bar Fiona had followed them to was listed as a likely place to find them, though, so that was something. Fiona had called Sam about the tracker on the SUV. They’d keep an eye on that and see if it ever led to Bates himself — the man was proving to be as difficult to pin down as they’d assumed. Sam had tried six ways to Sunday to figure out a pattern in Bates’ favorite watering holes, but his movements proved stubbornly random. 

Once Michael had learned about the bar’s second occupation as a field base for Bates, he started working on more trackers. He’d have Fiona plant them on the SUVs while he was inside trying to get friendly with Bates’ guys. 

Michael had brought all of Lily’s things to Madeline’s, where he wanted her to stay for the duration of the Bates job, and the two of them were in the garage. Michael was soldering together some circuitry and Lily was sitting silently, watching intently.

Michael looked at her sideways. “Can you hold this for me?” 

Lily carefully took the wire he was holding and held it in place while Michael coiled it around a receiver. 

“Thank you,” he said, as he clipped the end off and put the device to one side.

“Welcome,” Lily said quietly.

“I know you’re probably not happy about it, but I need you to stay here with Mom for a while. Uncle Sam and Fi and I are trying to make sure that the man your parents tried to sell you to goes away to jail for a long time so he can’t hurt anyone else. We’ll try to be here as much as we can be, but we’ll be gone a lot for a few days.” Lily was silent, but Michael could see the wheels turning in her little mind. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Madeline’s voice rang out from the back door, “Michael! Barry’s here! He brought me the most beautiful orchid!”

“Come on,” Michael said, and lifted Lily down from the edge of the workbench, hearing her let out a sad little sigh as they walked together towards the house. 

Madeline picked her up when they entered the kitchen. “Come on, baby, let’s go read something.” 

Lily nodded against Madeline’s shoulder and she carried her down the hall. 

Barry Burkowski and his ever-present leatherbound ledger were seated at the dining table, iced tea close at hand. Not for the first time, Michael wondered at the contents of that scuffed up book — how many crooked politicians and smarmy, tax-dodging businessmen were logged in it, their billions hidden in numbered offshore accounts?  _ On second thought, I don’t want to know. It’s better that way. _ Barry was an invaluable asset even though (or possibly because) he tended to err just the wrong side of being squeaky clean. He was a fund-shuffling wizard, and he knew how to make the money look like it was where it wasn’t, which, most of the time, fit Michael’s needs exactly.

“Barry.”

“Mike.” Barry took a sip of iced tea. “Was that our client?”

“Technically, yes.”

“Please tell me you’re gonna let Fi blow these guys up.”

Michael sighed. “They’re not the ones who did that to her. That was her parents, and they’re already dead. You probably heard about it, it wasn’t too long ago. The dealer who killed his girlfriend and then himself?”

“Oh, yeah. I did hear about that. How did you get a hold of the kid? I thought they couldn’t find her.”

“Let’s just say she’s a bit of a hide-and-seek champion. It was a fluke, honestly, but finding her made us aware of Bates, and since we can’t rain down hellfire on her tormentors the least we can do is get some scum off the streets.”

“I get it.” Barry took another drink. “I’ve set ‘Mr. Finley’ up with a few numbered accounts, some decent looking portfolio options, you know, the usual stuff. I did a variety since I didn’t know quite what kind of a deal we were going to have to do. I’d appreciate it if we don’t actually have to move any real money around, though. That always makes me nervous.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. I’m hoping we won’t have to this time, but just be prepared, okay?”

“Mike, do you know how badly things can go for me if my clients catch wind of me ‘borrowing’ their funds to bankroll your Musketeering? Even if it’s just for a minute and ‘for a good cause’?”

“Have I ever let you down?”

“Not yet, but there’s always a first time.”

“Look, I will do everything in my power to not have to shuffle any actual funds, but there’s a four year old girl in that back bedroom whose parents beat the crap out of her and then tried to sell her into God only knows what, and who knows how many other kids this guy has sold off and what kind of hell they’re living in now? We have a chance to make this stop, and you can help.” Michael put on his best convincing face.

“All right, all right, whatever you need. Just  _ try _ to keep  _ actual _ money out of it, okay? For me? Your old, reliable pal, Barry?”

“I’ll try.”

“I guess that’s the best I’m going to get out of you.” Barry finished the last of his tea and handed Michael a folder. “Here’s all the info on the dummy accounts for Sam. He knows how to access them.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Barry said grumpily and he stood up to leave. “Tell your mom not to water this orchid to death like she did the last one, okay?”

“Will do.”

 

**~~~**

 

Sam had finally had a breakthrough finding Bates. It had been an accident, really. He’d been about to pick up his ‘Chuck Finley’ gear from the dry cleaner as a black SUV had pulled up at the front of the shop and one of Bates’ guys — Junior DiRosa, he’d been at the sale they’d watched — had gone in. Sam had loitered behind a potted sago palm until DiRosa left with a pile of clean shirts, saying,  _ Mr. Bates says he’ll be here to settle up his account for the month tomorrow around two _ over his shoulder to the person manning the counter as he left, and Sam decided that ‘Chuck’ could wait a day to collect his suits.

Sam phoned this development in to Michael, who was getting kitted out for an evening with DiRosa and his partner Jeff Terns. Bates’ crew ran a clean-cut operation and Michael had never been a slouch in the dressing up category — the Armani was getting an outing. Sam’s call came in as Michael was adjusting his cufflinks and Fiona was staring him down like a predatory cat.

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Stroke of luck, Mikey. ‘Chuck’ and Bates use the same dry cleaner. ‘Mr. Finley’ will be collecting his suits tomorrow at the same time Mr. Bates comes in to settle his monthly account.”

“That’s… that’s amazing.”

“I think our karma count is through the roof right now, brother.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way. Fi and I are getting ready to hit the bar to see if I can talk Terns and DiRosa into taking me to the boss.”

“You get the trackers done?”

“Yup. Fi’ll do as many as she can.”

“How’s the baby spook?”

“Really?” Michael said, exasperated. “I wish you wouldn’t call her that.”

“Why not? It’s accurate. The kid faked her own death!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Lily’s fine. I’m sure Mom’ll be getting her off to bed pretty soon.”

“Shoot. I was gonna stop by Maddie’s to see her but if you think she’s in bed I won’t go waking her up, I guess.”

“If you’re quick you might make it. She’d be really happy to see you.”

“Not that you have a vested interest in her happiness or anything,” Sam teased.

“ _ Sam— _ ”   _   
_

“All right, brother, all right. Make contact when you’re done tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Michael hung up and adjusted his tie, making sure his tie pin, which held a concealed microphone so Fiona could monitor his progress, was clear of obstructions. “You ready, Fi?”

“I’m always ready, Michael.” Fiona slid a finger down Michael’s lapel and walked towards the door of the loft in a most enticing manner. She gave him a look over her shoulder before she stepped out the door, dragging her hand along the doorframe so that the last he saw of her before he left the loft himself was her fingertips caressing the wood.

Sometimes Fiona was really unhelpful.

 

**~~~**

 

*******

_ When you notice a sudden change of behavior in a woman you thought you knew inside and out this can mean one of two things. One, you’ve screwed up and she’s still figuring out how to punish you for your misdeeds, or, two, there has been some sort of monumental shake-up in her world and she’s adjusting to the consequences of the upheaval.  _

_ When the woman in question is a master marksman and  ex-IRA explosives expert, you’re prepared for things to start going boom. You’re prepared for anger. You’re prepared for a fight. You’re prepared to intervene if she goes into a blind rage on a target.  _

_ What you’re  _ not  _ prepared for is a sudden and overwhelming flood of compassion towards your client, and you’re  _ definitely  _ not prepared for that compassion to carry over into her other relationships. _

*******

Fiona was already fitting a tracker to the third SUV by the time Michael made his move inside the bar. She heard his affected Brooklyn accent and settled in to listen as she worked. Michael made his introduction flawlessly enough with some crude comment to Terns and DiRosa about one of the waitresses. They laughed and Michael bought a round for the three of them, and then another. He segued into the business talk easily with his usual  _ I’m new in town _ schtick, dropping hints like boulders about his line of work, getting Bates’ boys plied with enough booze to drop their guard sufficiently to admit to being in something similar. Fiona knew from experience that Michael would do the name drop in the next few minutes, and if it went badly she needed to be ready to get him out of there. She clipped the last tracker into place, rolled under the SUV while she waited for a tipsy bar patron to stumble past her, and then made her way back to the Saab.

_ “I hear there’s a guy around here who I might want to get to know, see if we can come to some mutual agreement. Sounds like he deals in what I supply, you know?” _

_ “Oh yeah? Where’d you hear that?” _

_ “Oh, you know, around. Apparently he goes by the name of Bates.” _

_ “Hey, DiRosa, don’t you need to call your old lady and check in?” _

Fiona put the key in the ignition. That could mean one of two things — either Terns was telling DiRosa to call for backup because Michael had come on too strong, or he was telling him to call Bates and sound him out about bringing Michael in for a face-to-face. She listened while Michael and Terns made a few off-color ball-and-chain jokes and then razzed DiRosa mercilessly as he returned to the table.

_ “Well, what’d she say, Junior? You allowed to stay out past your bedtime tonight?” _

_ “Screw you, Jeff. I do what I want, when I want.” _

There was more laughter and Fiona waited impatiently to see if there would be any warning for what was to come.

_ “You know, we might be able to use a guy like you, buddy. We might even know this Bates character you mentioned.” _

_ “Oh, yeah? Hey, great. Look, here’s my card. Gimme a call if Bates wants to talk. I’ll be around.” _

_ “You going, buddy?” _

_ “Yeah, I’d better. Booty call, ya know? Call me.” _

Fiona cringed at the chorus of catcalls from Terns and DiRosa as Michael made his exit. She stared him down coldly as he got into the car.

“What?”

“Booty call? Really?”

“I know, I know.”

Fiona shook her head in exasperation and started the car, pulling out into traffic as Michael dialed Sam, but it was Madeline who answered. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Mom? Where’s Sam?”

“Passed out on the sofa with Lily asleep on top of him. I heard the phone buzz and grabbed it so it wouldn’t wake them up.”

“Please tell me you took a picture of that.”

“Of course I did. Sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. Also fantastic blackmail material.”

Michael chuckled for a second and Fiona caught him looking sidelong at her. 

“Hey, Mom? Do you think you can manage for a while?”

“Yeah, sure honey. Why?”

“There’s something I need to do.”

“With Fiona?” When Michael didn’t reply, Madeline said, “I’ll see the two of you in the morning.”

“Thanks Ma, ‘night!” Michael hung up in a hurry. “Fi.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re going to the loft.”

“Why?”

“Gotta stop off and do something real quick.”

“What about Lily?”

“According to Mom, she’s asleep on Sam, who’s asleep on the sofa. She’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Fiona murmured as she took the next right turn and headed towards the loft. 

When they got there, Michael unlocked the gate and opened it up for her to drive in, locking it behind them. Without cutting the engine, Fiona stuck her head out the window as Michael walked back to the car. “Why’d you lock up?”

“Gotta do something here. Might take a while.”

“Oh,” she said, turning off the car but not moving to get out. “Okay.”

“I could probably use a hand.”

“We need to get back.”

“We will. Mom’s got everything under control. Can you just come up and help me with this for a minute?”

Fiona sighed and grabbed her bag, locking the Saab and following Michael upstairs. She closed the door behind them and started toward the kitchen, tossing her bag on the workbench. Michael was draping his suit jacket over his green chair and removing the tie pin microphone.

“What are we doing, then?” Fiona asked, arms crossed, wondering what Michael needed to do that couldn't wait until the morning.

“Well,” said Michael, moving to her and getting as close as he could without touching. “I have to wait until Bates either calls me or he doesn’t, there probably won’t be anything good on those trackers until tomorrow, and Mom said she’d see us in the morning.” His hands were at her hips now, drawing her closer. The next words he spoke trailed down her neck as he leaned in. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve seen me every day for the last two weeks.” Fiona knew exactly what he was up to, but she couldn’t just give in. “And all of the nights as well. You can hardly have been missing me.”

“Fiona,” he whispered.

Her full name. Said in anger or frustration, she hated to hear it from his lips, but when he said it like that, softly and full of feeling, she’d never been able to help herself. She ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders, took a slight detour down his chest, then slid them behind his neck, intertwining her fingers, running a thumb along his hairline. Their eyes locked, Fiona’s with a bit of smugness behind them, Michael’s deep and wanting. Even in that he was tense, waiting for her next move. She could feel it. Usually by now she’d be riled, ready to take a swing at him — violence had always been her foreplay — but she held it in for the time being, rising onto her tiptoes and kissing him gently.

Michael’s surprise was apparent, but he seemed determined not to waste the unexpected opportunity to ease into this for once. He ran his hands down her back, coming to rest at the tops of her thighs, and when he shifted his weight down Fiona knew by feel what he was doing. As he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, tenderly trailing open mouthed kisses from his ear to his collar as he moved them both to the bed. Michael nestled her down on top of him and moved his lips to the spot underneath her ear that made her crazy, kissing and biting all at once with the obvious intent of leaving her a memento. 

Fiona, half lost in a cloud of desire, suddenly pushed him away, remembering at the last minute not to clobber him as she did. “Michael, we can’t.”

“Whoa,” Michael said, completely baffled. “What’s wrong?”

“Lily.”

Confused, Michael asked, “What do you mean?”

Fiona shook her head and moved back to Michael’s arms, resting her forehead on his collarbone. “We can’t leave marks. What if she sees?”

Suddenly everything seemed to click into place for Michael, and he pulled Fiona closer to him. “I was wondering why my jaw was still intact.” He chuckled momentarily, but then his voice took on a serious tone. “You’re right, Fi. I didn’t think of that.”

Fiona started unbuttoning his shirt. “You’re not getting out of this, you know. We just have to play a bit more gently than normal.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

Fiona looked at Michael, searching his eyes. She knew he always let her get away with more than he was really comfortable with when they did this. He let her fight him, let her hold the power. She was starting to wonder now if her pursuit of dominance, her violent tendencies, had ever triggered anything for him. She supposed it must have on some level, and she briefly cursed herself. 

Drawing a circle with a fingertip on Michael’s chest, she said, “No. It’s not. But,” she added, grinning wickedly, “we’re going to have to come up with a new points system, because I still plan to keep score.”

 

**~~~**

 

Fiona had rushed off to Madeline’s as soon as she’d finished her Spanish omelette, (egg white only,) and Michael was alone in the loft sorting through some things and cleaning up. No more than two minutes after he heard Fiona drive away the door swung open and Larry Sizemore, un-dead spy and permanent thorn in Michael’s side, sauntered in looking put-upon.

“Geezus, kid. I mean, I’m thrilled you’re getting some, but I thought she’d  _ never _ leave!”

Michael knew better than to let his anger show. He smiled and said, “Larry, lovely to see you, as always.”

“What can I say, Mike?” Larry made himself comfortable in Michael’s green chair. “I missed ya. You’ve got quite the circus going on around here, you know that? Much as I hate to come between a man and his little girl, I’ve got something that needs the Michael Westen touch.”

Ignoring the barely veiled threat Michael coldly replied, “What is it, Larry?”

“Oh, just a little something I need you to collect for me. I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get back to your  _ family _ ,” Larry said as he stood and started towards the door, “but I’ll be in touch. See ya, kid!”

Michael glared at Larry’s back as he left, and then continued glaring at the door once he was gone, fists clenched, jaw set, breathing barely controlled. This was the last thing he needed. 

Larry always managed to slip in when things were just starting to sort themselves out and throw a monkey wrench in the works. He’d obviously been watching, waiting. He knew about Lily, and Michael knew from experience that he wouldn’t hesitate to use the little girl as leverage for whatever it was he’d decided he needed from Michael. He’d use Lily, and Fiona, and Sam, and Madeline and Nate, too. Michael was backed into a corner and he knew it. The bastard managed it every time. He just hoped he could keep everyone safe. He’d do the job for Larry — he had to, or people would die. People he cared about.

Michael grabbed the bag he’d been packing and headed to Madeline’s, taking the shortest route he knew. It was unlikely that Larry would have made a preemptive strike to garner his help, but Michael needed to be absolutely sure that everyone was okay. 


	5. Chapter 5

Michael pulled up to his mother’s house, relieved to see all of the cars that should have been there were there, but that was only step one. 

Step two was seeing his mom and Fiona drinking iced tea at the table when he got in the front door.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi Ma,” Michael said, and as he passed he trailed his fingertips across Fiona’s shoulders, making her shiver and Madeline smirk. 

He followed a murmur of voices, one twinkly, one deep, out the back door and into the yard. Step three. 

Sam was sitting in a lawn chair with Lily’s hippo and Lily was hanging by her arms from a tree branch, swinging back and forth. When she saw Michael coming from the house out of the corner of her eye she grinned, twisted herself ninety degrees, and switched her grip so that she was facing the direction from which he was coming.

“Hey Mikey!” Sam greeted him with a smile.

“What are you two troublemakers up to?” Michael stopped next to Lily who had continued swinging from the branch of the tree. “Two braids today? Who did that, Mom or Fi?”

“Uncle Sammy!” Lily giggled.

Sam looked at Michael’s amused expression and spluttered, “What? I know how to do things!”

“You should put that on your resume.”

“Maybe I will,” Sam retorted with a faux harrumph.

Michael looked at Lily. “I need to talk to Uncle Sam for a minute, Lily-girl. Can you go inside with Mom and Fi, please?”

Lily nodded and Michael helped her down from the tree. 

Sam handed her her hippo and she gave him a hug before scampering towards the door and disappearing inside. “I am completely in love with that little girl, Mike,” Sam said quietly.

Michael swallowed his jealousy at Sam’s ease with employing the L-word. “She’s definitely something.”

“What’s up?”

“Whatever you do,  _ do not _ tell Fi,” he began. That got Sam’s attention. Michael sighed. He wouldn’t usually even tell Sam that Larry had shown up again, but there was too much at stake now. “Larry stopped by this morning after Fi left.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam snarled. “Please tell me you shot the bastard and dumped the body!”

“No.”

“What does the son of a bitch want this time?”

“He wants me to collect something. I don’t know what yet. Said he’d be in touch.” Michael watched Sam shake his head. “He knows about Lily.”

Sam’s eyes flicked up immediately. “You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Whatever he wants me to do. It’s the only way to make sure all of you are safe.”

“God damn it, Mike, what’s it going to take to get you to let us take Larry out? For a dead guy he shows up an awful lot, and every time he does  _ you  _ end up half-dead. Between you, me, and Fi we could finish this.”

“Sam, please. Just keep Lily and Mom safe, okay? And Fi too, if you have to. Let me deal with him. The fewer of us who are involved, the better.” Michael watched Sam consider this. He knew what he was asking, and of whom he was asking it. He knew this was likely to get under Sam’s skin in the worst possible way. 

Finally, Sam said, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Mike. For Lily’s sake.” 

Michael just looked at him, praying his face wasn’t giving away the fact that he was hoping exactly the same thing. 

“‘Chuck Finley’’s got an appointment with Bates. I’ll see you later.”

 

**~~~**

 

Sam waited behind the potted palm until he saw Bates’ SUV pull up in front of the dry cleaners, and he slipped into the shop as Bates was exiting the vehicle. 

“Hi, Jane. Are my suits ready to be picked up?”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Finley,” the little Vietnamese lady said. “One moment.”

As the carousel of clothes switched on and started moving, Sam heard the ding of the bell on the door behind him. Bates joined him at the counter and they gave each other a cursory nod. The carousel came to a stop and Jane came back to the counter with Sam’s suits, laying them across with the hangers towards him and tallying up the charges. 

Sam took a look through the suits and said, “Sorry, Jane, could you just check again? I think I sent the navy blue in as well, and I don’t see it here.”

“Of course, Mr. Finley. Mr. Bates, I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Jane disappeared behind the forest of garments.

“Best cleaners this side of the city,” Sam said casually. “Don’t know about you, but I don’t use anyone else anymore.”

Bates nodded in agreement. “They’re very accommodating.”

“Accommodating is an understatement. They don’t look twice when they find things you forgot were in your pockets, eh? All very hush-hush.”

Bates gave half of an ‘I’d rather be anywhere but here talking to you’ smile, and Sam extended a hand. “Chuck Finley.”

“Matthew Bates.”

They shook hands and Sam cocked his head to one side. “ _ Matthew _ Bates?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard of a man by that name who deals in… shall we say, commodities? Clean-cut guy like you, I bet you get that a lot, huh?”

“Can’t say I do, no.” 

Bates was very professionally keeping his cool, so Sam changed tack. “Too bad, really. I wish I could find the guy. I’ve got a decent nest egg burning a hole in my pocket and I could use a little R&R, if you know what I mean.”

Sam gave Bates a nudge with his elbow and winked as Jane returned from the depths of the shop and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Finley, but we don’t seem to have it. I will let you know if it turns up.”

“No worries, Janey, it might be in the walk-in at home. If it does turn up, call me, okay?” Sam handed across two crisp hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change, honey.”

“Thank you, Mr. Finley. I’ll get your shirts, Mr. Bates.”

“Must be a liquid nest egg,” said Bates as Sam picked up his suits and turned to go.

Sam tapped the side of his nose with a finger. “Harder to trace. And they’d just get a wall of numbers if they did.”

Jane had finished Sam’s transaction and walked away from the counter. 

Quietly, Bates said, “Mr. Finley.”

“Mr. Bates?”

“What sort of ‘recreation’ are you and your wall of numbers seeking, exactly?”

Sam needed Bates to take him seriously, but he didn’t want to commit to anything before they had a solid grasp on what Michael’s involvement was going to be. Best to keep things a bit nebulous and enigmatic. Sam shook his head. “Not here, Mr. Bates.”

Bates nodded knowingly. “We can set up a meeting, if you like.”

Sam pulled a card out of his breast pocket and handed it to Bates. “Call me.”

Once he was out the door of the cleaners and well around the corner, Sam dialed Michael. “Mikey, Bates bit. Give him something to sell me.”

 

**~~~**

 

The next morning, Michael was starting to wonder if the sell portion of the plan was slipping.

“Fi,” Michael could hear traffic noise in the background on the phone. “I still haven’t heard from Bates’ goon squad. We may need to revise the plan. Can you get hold of some harder-to-find models for me in case I have to take the merch to them?”

“Can do. I think I have a few odd pieces sitting around, actually.”

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me. Where  _ are _ you, anyway?”

“If you must know, I’m working a job.”

“What job?”

“Just a quick one. Surveillance. No muss, no fuss, just get a few photos and clear out.”

“Photos of what, exactly?”

“A little old lady’s gardener. She thinks he’s sabotaging her prize roses.”

Michael grinned. “Why?”

“Remember that favor I called in to get the location of the Bates deal? It was really sort of an owe-a-favor-use-a-favor situation. I’ll be done in a couple of hours and I’ll bring some stuff to the loft.”

“I’m at Mom’s.”

“Maddie’s then. Oop, gotta go, the gardener’s here. Bye!”

The line went dead in Michael’s ear and he shook his head, smiling.

Lily looked up from her plate, which had previously been occupied by half a peanut butter sandwich and some baby carrots. “Where’s Fi?”

“Doing a little side job. She’ll be over later.”

“‘Kay.” She slid down from the chair and took her plate to the kitchen, standing up on her tiptoes to get it on the counter next to the sink. “Where’s Uncle Sam?”

“Probably still asleep, snoring his head off.”

Lily giggled at the thought, then looked back at Michael and asked, “Are you going to go when Maddie comes home?”

“After she comes home, yeah, I’ll have to go.” Michael watched as Lily’s face fell and tried to convince himself that it didn’t hit him like a blow to the ribs. “But before I do, why don’t you come out to the garage with me? I have to finish the booster.” Lily nodded and started to follow Michael out the back door but he stopped her with a finger to her shoulder. “Shoes, please.”

Lily stepped back inside the door and slid into her sandals before scampering to catch up to him as he went in the side door of the garage, using the exposed boards in the wall like a ladder to climb up to her usual perch at the end of the workbench and hugging her knees to her chest. 

Michael started sorting through electrical components while watching Lily in his periphery. She finally looked like a little girl instead of someone’s punching bag, and he was damned if he knew what they were going to do with her after all this was over.  _ She  _ can’t _ stay here. There’s too many things that could go wrong — she could end up dead. She deserves better than a life of constant chaos. _ He snuck a look up at Lily, only to find her staring back at him.

She crinkled her nose and gave him a crooked grin.

He smiled back.  _ Shit. And then she goes and does that and your heart jumps out in front of your head.  _ His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his phone.  _ Caller unknown. _

He threw on his Brooklyn accent just in case. “Yee-Ello.”

“Johnny Booker?”

“Speaking.”

“Jeff Terns. Mr. Bates would like to see you. Five o’clock. We’ll pick you up at the Italian ice cart on the waterfront, you know the one?”

“I know the one. You want I should bring anything along?”

“Just your happy, smiling face, Booker.”

Michael heard the line go dead and switched over to dial Sam, who answered on the sixth ring, voice like sandpaper.

“What’s up, Mikey?” Sam ground out.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ve got a five o’clock with Bates and company. They’re picking me up.” Michael was rummaging through a box of odds and ends and made a face. “And I just realized we’re out of button cells.”

“The 2032s?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll pick some up on my way over. You need anything else?”

Michael winked at Lily. “A pint of mint chip?”

Sam chuckled. “That kid is going to know more about spycraft by the time she’s ten than some of us will ever know in a lifetime, brother. I’ll see you in a few.”

Michael hung up and laid his phone off to the side as he walked to a cabinet at the far end of the garage and came back with a small, sealed bucket. He broke the seal and pulled out a lump of soft gray material which he handed to Lily.

“This is Formerol. It’s kind of like clay, but when it dries it works like glue so we use it when we can’t solder something together. Can you squish that up for me? I need it to be bendy.” Lily nodded and started kneading the clay-like substance. “Be careful you don’t touch your eyes, okay?”

They worked in silence for a while, and when Michael next looked up, Lily had turned the Formerol into… something. “What’s that?”

“Hippo.”

It made sense now that he knew what he was looking at. He snorted a laugh, took the Formerol hippo out of her hand, and put it on top of one of the exposed boards in the wall behind the workbench. Scooping out another handful from the bucket, he said, “That’s a really nice hippo, but how about just a ball this time, yeah?”

As Lily giggled and got to work on the new lump of Formerol they heard the back door open.

“Michael? Lily?”

“Out here, Mom!”

Madeline strolled into the garage, freshly back from the beauty parlor and still smelling slightly of bleach and acrylic. “What are you two up to?”

“Makin’ a signal booster,” Lily said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for them to be doing.

“ _ Some _ of us are making a signal booster,” Michael teased. “ _ Some _ of us are making Formerol hippos.”

Lily wrinkled her nose at Michael and Madeline smiled. “What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?”

Michael set a screwdriver aside. “Sam and Fi’ll be here in a while. I’ve got a five o’clock and I have to go back to the loft first to change. After that, I’m not sure. Depends on my meeting.”

“Okay. We’ll play it by ear then.” Madeline booped Lily’s nose and headed back into the house.

Lily handed over a well-squished ball to Michael, which he separated into smaller chunks and used it to start bundling wires together and adhering them to the sides of a hollowed-out cell phone.

“Michael?” Lily said quietly.

“Hmm?” Michael was focused on his wires and didn’t look up. When she didn’t immediately respond, he asked, “What’s up, Lily-girl?”

There was a little pause, and then Lily whispered, “I’m not going to stay with you, am I.” It wasn’t a question.

Michael’s head shot up. Lily wasn’t looking at him, she was picking at a loose thread on one of her sandals. He had no idea how to respond, mostly because not only was he up against his mother, Sam, and Fiona on this, he was starting to argue with  _ himself  _ about it. He opened his mouth and tried to come up with a suitable answer and was immensely relieved when the back door to the house opened and Sam called out, “Ice cream and battery delivery!”

Sam strolled into the garage and took in the scene in front of him — Michael looking lost and Lily looking upset — and employed the only tactic he could come up with on the fly. He tossed the bag of batteries onto the bench, picked Lily up off of it, and gave her the biggest hug he could. 

She buried her face in his shirt.

“You’d better get inside, squirt. Maddie found a fun project for you two to do!” Sam set her down and she walked into the house, head down, not looking back. When the door closed, Sam turned to Michael. “The hell was that?”

“She asked me if she was going to stay with us, you know, when things are done. Well, actually, it was more of a statement, like she’d already convinced herself that we were going to move her on somewhere, like it was a foregone conclusion.” Michael was fussing with his wires, not looking at Sam.

“Well,  _ is  _ it a foregone conclusion?” Michael didn’t respond, and Sam decided it was time to start pushing a little. “Mike, that kid adores you. And Fi. And your mom. You’re the first people she’s ever encountered who’ve actually given a damn about her.”

“You’ve had a big hand in that, too, Sam.”

“I didn’t want to toot my own horn.”

Michael snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“So what are we going to do? She’s gotten attached to all of us, and I think I speak for everyone when I say we’ve gotten pretty damned attached to her.” Sam could tell Michael was going to bite his head off any minute now, but someone had to get it into his brain that their endgame this time around went beyond putting some sleazebags out of commission — this time they needed to do more than hog-tie them for the cops and slip away silently.

“God damn it, Sam, I don’t know!” Michael snapped and slammed a pair of pliers down on the workbench hard enough to create a divot in the wood.

“Whoa, calm down, buddy.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know, okay? And I’m not dealing with it until after the job is done, when we know everything’s clear.”

“All right, brother. When the job’s done.”


	6. Chapter 6

Lily had been sitting on the counter next to Madeline working on DIY play dough when Michael and Sam had left. They had both hugged her goodbye and each knew the other had noticed the sudden distance Lily had seemed to put between herself and them, but they didn’t talk about it. 

Sam had stayed at the loft to listen in on Michael’s meeting with Bates courtesy of the tie pin mic, and then on the bug Michael was going to plant in whatever vehicle he was collected in, and now Michael was leaning casually on the palm tree nearest the Italian ice cart. He scanned the pedestrian traffic for signs of foul play, though he didn’t really expect anything untoward this early in the game.

After about five minutes a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up to the curb next to him, the passenger side window rolling down to reveal Junior DiRosa, who pointed a thumb at the back door and immediately rolled his window up again. Michael slid into the back seat, surreptitiously attaching the bug to the underside of DiRosa’s seat as he sat, and they set off as soon as the door was closed.

“Nice to see you again, boys. Thanks for putting in a good word for me.” 

“The boss is looking forward to meeting you,” Jeff Terns said from the driver's seat. “We hope you walk as good as you talk, Booker. We don’t stick our necks out for just anybody, you know.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Don’t worry, I’ll do you boys proud, you’ll see.”

The rest of the drive was made in silence, Michael cataloging the route they travelled for future use. They headed out of the city and after about half an hour pulled up to an abandoned, half-developed group of buildings that were supposed to have been luxury condominiums, but the economic slump had stopped construction in its tracks. There were a multitude of these suburban ghost towns at the outskirts of Miami which made fantastic locations for clandestine activities, and an undermanned Miami-Dade sheriff’s department meant that at the moment the underhanded had the upper hand. There were no other vehicles parked in front of the building, so if Bates was already there, his transport was tucked away out of sight.  _ The better to not be followed or recognized on the roads _ , thought Michael.

Terns jerked his head at Michael and DiRosa and they exited the SUV, Terns leading the way to one of the buildings and up a half-finished staircase to an upper-storey unit which had all its walls and holes for windows and doors, but no roof. There was a deliberately out-of place bistro set in the center of the room, one chair occupied by Matthew Bates, who stood up when Terns, DiRosa, and Michael entered the space. 

DiRosa gave Michael a brief but thorough pat-down which revealed only Michael’s phone. DiRosa switched it off and returned it, and then he and Terns exited the room, previously concealed .9mm’s in hand. Michael knew the drill. He’d come unarmed even though he knew Bates and company were certain to be carrying.

“Mr. Booker.” Bates extended a hand and Michael shook it. “I understand from my associates that you’re looking to supply. Please, sit down.” Bates gestured to the second chair.

Michael, having cataloged all possible exits in case the meeting went sour, sat, making sure his tie pin was clear for Sam listening in back at the loft. “Thank you for making the time, Mr. Bates. And please, call me Johnny. Mr. Booker is my father.”

That got him a wry smile and an indulgent chuckle from Bates, who said, “All right then, Johnny, what do you think you can bring me that I can’t already get through my usual suppliers?”

 

**~~~**

 

Back at the loft, Sam was listening intently. They had boosted the tie pin signal as best they could and Michael was transmitting from the burner phone in his pocket. They’d figured that would be a good bet — Bates and his boys wouldn’t think twice about a cell phone, though in this case the phone itself was a shell. When DiRosa switched it off all he did was switch off the light behind the screen. The lithium cell battery inside the phone’s body would give them several hours of listening time. Sam turned to a new page on his legal pad and settled in.

The conversation went the way these conversations always did, Michael spinning a yarn about contacts in high places and low, corrupt politicians and black market kingpins. They’d decided to play it exclusive — Fiona could get them some lesser-circulated and highly coveted pieces, or at least the means by which to build passable replicas, and if they had to dabble into the drugs they could probably corral Sugar, ex-dealer and Michael’s ex-neighbor, into giving them some leads to get hold of what they needed.

But neither Sam nor Michael had been prepared for the ultimatum Bates offered.

_ Well, Johnny, that’s all very impressive, but I’ve got all the drug and gun runners I need at the moment. What I really need is someone who can get me something a little more… niche. A little more… human. _

“Sonovabitch,” Sam whispered. “Mikey, please play this cool. I won’t make it out there in time to help you if you blow a gasket now.”

_ Human, Mr. Bates? _

_ Human, Johnny. I serve a certain side-clientele who have more particular and, shall we say, taboo tastes? _

_ What are we talking here, runaway teenage girls? The old ‘I can get you into modeling’ bit? I might be able to swing something along those lines. _

Sam knew Michael was bluffing — Fiona was gorgeous but sixteen she wasn’t.

_ Oh, no, Johnny. Think younger. _

_ Younger? _

_ Younger. Much younger. It’s a difficult commodity to come by, and there’s plenty of my clients who’d pay handsomely for a pretty little thing to play with. In fact, I have a buyer in mind, if you can come up with the goods. _

There was a distinct pause. Sam knew Michael was considering his options, and he hoped to God that murdering Bates was further down the list at this moment than backing out gracefully. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Michael spoke again. 

_ Well, Mr. Bates, it’s not my usual area, but never let it be said that Johnny Booker turns his nose up at a challenge. _

_ Wonderful, Johnny. Please contact Mr. Terns or Mr. DiRosa when you’ve made your… acquisition. _

After that, it was all goodbyes and Michael getting back in the car with Terns and DiRosa. 

Sam threw his pen across the loft and stomped to the fridge for a beer. This was going to be harder than it needed to be. He hoped that by the time Michael got back he’d have thought of a plan, because drugs and guns were easy — what Bates wanted was beyond disgusting. They knew he dealt in that kind of trade, but they hadn’t even considered the possibility that they’d need to cover that angle with this operation. If they could blow it open with cocaine and firearms, the human trafficking would become apparent once the authorities got hold of things. Now, though, they were faced with the unexpected dilemma of having to actually play to the thing they were trying to shut down. 

Sam slammed back the rest of beer number one and opened another, walking back to the scanner. The bug in the SUV was silent, just the occasional sound of the blinker being switched on and off. There was nothing to do but wait.

 

**~~~**

 

*******

_ When your client is a child, you can’t always employ your traditional methods of information-gathering. If the child in question has suffered a trauma you need a soft touch, metaphorically, and sometimes literally. At times like these it’s always a relief if you have someone on your side with a knack for getting to the bottom of things  _ without _ breaking out the thumbscrews or psychological terror tactics. _

_ And if that person has developed a genuine attachment to the interrogatee, it can be even easier. _

_ Sometimes.  _

*******

Madeline’s maternal instincts were tingling like crazy. Lily had shut down, and she needed to know why. The child had reverted to stoic silence since the boys had left, no trace of the bright, bubbly little creature she had started to become, surrounded by everyone’s attention and patience. She watched Lily sitting at the table poking half-heartedly at the batch of play dough they’d made that morning. 

_ Well, you’re just going to have to ask her, aren’t you? _ Madeline thought.  _ Maybe all this needs is the right question.  _ Moving to the living room, Madeline settled into the corner of the sofa. “Lily?” 

Lily looked over at her. 

“Come here, baby.”

Lily wiped her hands off on a piece of paper towel and walked over to Madeline, coming to a stop in front of her. 

Madeline pulled the child up into her lap and looked her straight in the eyes. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Lily looked down. “Nothin’.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like nothing, honey.” Madeline rubbed her back. “I’m starting to get worried about you. You’re not yourself today.” 

No response.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

Madeline shifted Lily in her lap, cuddling her closer. “You’re not alone anymore, baby. You don’t have to keep everything inside.” The only response she got was a sniff.

_ I allowed both of my boys be destroyed by the same things that made  _ her  _ this way. I’ll be damned if I’ll make that mistake again.  _ She kissed the top of Lily’s head. “I know it’s hard, honey. I know you’ve never had anyone on your side before, but we all are. None of us will ever hurt you like that — we love you too much. And I know you’re not used to being able to talk about what you’re feeling, but I need you to know that you can tell me anything, Lily, okay? Anything.” She watched her words land, but instead of opening the floodgates like she’d hoped they would, they seemed to bounce straight back at her.

“Can’t,” Lily whispered tearily.

Madeline could have sworn she heard her heart crack. “Why not, baby?”

The setting of a tiny jaw, the tensing of a tiny body, and suddenly Madeline was faced with a four-year-old female carbon-copy of her eldest son.

“‘Cause I’m not staying.”

“What do you mean?”

“When it’s done. He’s gonna make me go somewhere else.”

_ Dammit, Michael, what did you tell this child? _ “Well, that might happen, but it might not, honey. No one knows for sure yet.” Madeline tried to pull Lily back into a hug, to offer some comfort, but the little girl wriggled backwards and off the sofa.

“He does,” she said.

“Lily—”

But Lily was halfway down the hall to her bedroom. Madeline stared after her, equal parts shocked and sad. She knew that without a concrete answer there wasn’t going to be any way of convincing Lily that no matter what happened she would be looked after. Best to let it lie for a while.

And rip Michael a new one when he got home.

 

**~~~**

 

The frustration that had settled over the loft was palpable. Michael had called Fiona as soon as Terns and DiRosa had dropped him off at their original rendezvous point and re-routed her to the loft rather than Madeline’s as they’d originally agreed. Sam had pounded his way through an entire six-pack while he waited for Michael and Fiona to join him, listening in on the bug Michael had planted with Terns and DiRosa but not turning up anything useful. The three of them were sitting in silence, each trying to come up with some sort of workaround for their current situation. 

Fiona was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

Michael was in the green chair, chin resting on his index fingers which were pressed together, staring at a knot in a floorboard about six feet in front of him. 

Sam was on one of the stools at the counter, peeling the label off a beer bottle. He’d had a thought, but if he hated it, Michael and Fiona were going to hate it, too, and it was definitely loathsome. However, they’d been sitting for an hour without coming up with anything at all, so maybe a bad idea would at least provide a jumping-off point.

“I hate this idea, but I keep coming back to it, so I’m just going to spit it out, okay?” Michael and Fiona turned to look at him, and Sam took a deep breath. “Look, Bates wants Mike to source him a kid. I wasn’t specific when I made my pitch to him about what ‘Chuck Finley’ was after. If we rigged this right, had total control, we could have Mike deliver when I collect, and that way we could use Lily with as little danger to her as possible.”

There was a simultaneous “ _ NO _ !” from Michael and Fiona.

“I know! I said I didn’t like it! But it’s all I can seem to come up with. Unless you two can think of anything better?”

Fiona flopped back on the bed with a frustrated sigh, Michael started pacing the length of the loft, and they were silent again until Michael kicked one of the supports of the metal staircase up to the office and the clang hung in the air like a death knell. They all looked at each other.

“Fi?”

“I’ve got nothing.”

Michael sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if we could set it up so that there was  _ no chance _ of danger to Lily—”

“Michael, you can’t be serious!”

“I know, Fi. But what choice do we have?”

Fiona stood up and stalked to Michael. “We could choose to make an anonymous tip-off to the Feds and hope for the best. We could choose to end this ourselves with an ambush and a fucking arsenal! We could—”

“Fi!” Michael held her by her shoulders. “Fi, I think we can do this. The meeting I had with Bates was at an abandoned construction site on the outskirts of town. There’s tons of those. If we can swing it we can fit one out ahead of time somehow and make this work. I don’t like it, but we don’t have a lot of better options.”

“This is the life of a child we’ve promised to protect! Are you seriously considering shoving Lily into the thick of things just so you can play this out like the Scarlet fucking Pimpernel? She’s  _ four _ , Michael. She’s been through enough.”

“I know, Fi. If we can’t manage to make it controllable, we won’t do it, okay? I  _ will not _ put Lily in any more danger than we can handle.” 

“Total control?” Fiona asked, her voice shaking.

“Total control or nothing.”

“There’s still some daylight left. I’ll get started looking for a location,” Sam said.

Michael looked from Fiona to Sam and then back to Fiona. “Tomorrow. I think we all need a night off.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “I’ll see you two at Maddie’s.”

As Sam left, Fiona and Michael looked at each other. It was clear that Fiona still wasn’t thrilled with their course of action and Michael braced himself for a barrage of words and fists.

“If  _ anything _ happens to her as a result of this, Michael, I will never forgive you.” 

“If anything happens to her as a result of this, I will never forgive myself,” Michael replied.

Fiona eyed him coldly for a moment and then echoed Sam. “I’ll see you at Maddie’s.”

 

**~~~**

 

Fiona walked in the back door and found herself smack in the middle of an intense whispered argument between Madeline and Sam.

“What in the  _ hell _ did he tell her?”

“He didn’t tell her anything, Maddie! Honest!”

“Bullshit! I’ve been here with her all day and she’s clearly been told  _ something _ . She’s walling up, Sam, like she’s preparing herself to be shipped off to God knows where. She’s scared, and she’s upset, and the only way she knows how to deal with those things is to hide from them!”

“Shit.” Sam drew a weary hand down his face. “I don’t know what to tell you. No one told her anything. She came to that conclusion on her own — Mike told me she just said it out of the blue this morning. ‘I”m not going to stay with you, am I?’ Her words, Mad. He didn’t know  _ what _ to say to her.”

“Yeah, well, God knows  _ he’s _ not going to be any help with this.”

“Come on, that’s not fair.”

“I’m his  _ mother _ , Sam. I know what he’s hiding behind. He will send her as far away as possible because he’s afraid that loving her will somehow kill her, regardless of the fact that he’s clearly just as much in love with that child as you, and me, and Fiona. It’s the same excuse he uses with us when he wants us to keep out of the way so  _ we  _ don’t get hurt. The only difference is that we’re adults and we can ignore him.”

“Hey, I’m on your side, here! I don’t trust anyone else to look after her. I’ve been leaning on him about it, but you know what he’s like. He’s not going to make a decision until the job’s done, and even then we’re probably going to have to gang up on him pretty hard to get him to see it our way.”

Fiona had been silent, standing just inside the door, but now that Sam and Madeline seemed to have exhausted their tirade she said, “Lily trusts him. I’m not sure if he quite understands the significance of that.”

Madeline sighed. “Trust is something he never learned. I blame myself for that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Mad.” Sam wrapped an arm around her and pulled her up against his side.

“Well, Frank sure didn’t help,” she replied wryly, leaning her head onto Sam’s shoulder. “I know Michael wants to do what’s best for her, but we all know he’s going to deny himself the opportunity to… I don’t know,  _ normalize _ his life a little. For once he could have a sense of gratification that lasts longer than the end of the job, and he’s going to push it away.”

“The way I see it,” Sam said, “he’s not the only one with a say in what happens with Lily when this is done.”

“He’s been where she’s been. Mostly, anyway. No one else is going to understand her like he does.” Fiona tried to quell the lump in her throat but her voice shook anyway. “No. Lily’s not going anywhere. There’s three of us and one of him, and if he can’t accept that this is the best place for her to be, then—” She was interrupted by a scream. 

The three of them looked at each other for a split second, shocked, and then Fiona barreled down the hall. 

Lily was still screaming when she flew into the room, and as soon as Fiona’s arms started to close around her she started to flail wildly, fighting to get away. Fiona dodged a tiny fist and quickly changed her grip, pinning Lily’s arms to her sides.

“It’s okay, Lily. You’re okay. Calm down, Lily-girl.”

Sam and Madeline were in the doorway. “Is she awake?” Sam shouted over the screaming.

“No!” said Fiona, still trying to keep Lily from hurling herself off the bed or into the wall. “Lily, you’ve  _ got _ to relax. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. You’re safe. No one can hurt you here. Lily,  _ please _ !”

Something in Fiona’s voice must have broken through the dream then, because Lily let out one more strangled wail and then fell silent and perfectly still. Her eyes opened and she saw who was in the room with her, looking wild-eyed from Madeline to Sam and then to Fiona who was still holding her, and then something snapped and the little girl gave over to full-blown sobs into Fiona’s neck. 

Madeline joined Fiona on the bed, putting her arms around them both, and as she murmured comforting words to Lily, Fiona looked up at Sam and mouthed, “Where the hell is Michael?”

Sam shrugged helplessly.

 

**~~~**

 

Michael was on the roof of Westchester General Hospital. 

As soon as Fiona had left the loft Larry had appeared, tossing a bag at Michael and saying, “Let’s go, kid. Everything you’re gonna need is in there. I’ll explain on the way.”

Michael was prising the grate off a ventilation shaft after a grueling climb up the side of the building, cursing under his breath.  _ This is too easy. This can’t be the whole job. Nothing with Larry is ever this easy. _ The grate came away with a scraping noise and Michael set it to one side. 

_ Down the hatch, left, right, left, left, down the third vent. _ He checked off the instructions as he moved along.  _ Wait for the night security guy to pass, and then you have seven minutes until he passes again. _ The security guard stopped under the vent, checked the handle on a door, and moved along. 

Michael counted ten hippopotamuses, smiled as he realized why he’d counted in hippos rather than alligators or Mississippis or gatling guns, and then swung open the vent cover. Landing safely on the hallway floor and closing the vent again, Michael crossed to the door and got to work on the locks. There were three, all different makes, but they were common enough that they gave him no trouble at all. 

_ Third cabinet from the left, top drawer, three-ring binder labeled ‘M.B. 4762559’. _

Binder into the messenger bag, black turtleneck off and into the bag with the binder, hospital janitor coveralls on, out the door and down the hall just as the security guard turned the corner. Service elevator down, gloves off and into the bag on the way, sneak past the lone guard at the employee entrance, and out into the sweltering Miami heat.

Michael walked to the edge of the parking lot and shed the janitor’s coveralls behind an F-350, tossing them into a trashcan on the sidewalk as he returned to the place Larry had dropped him off. Larry wasn’t there, of course. Michael knew he wouldn’t be. But he also knew that Larry would have left behind a message indicating when and where he would pick up the binder. 

Michael scanned the area, starting with the ground. Finding nothing out of place at that level, he moved up in sections until he saw it — freshly carved into the bark of a tree was a heart, and inside it, like teenagers carve their initials, was: ‘MO + NDE = Forever’ Michael committed this to memory and started hoofing it back towards the loft, knowing just how incongruous the tactical pants and boots Larry had stuck him with looked with his bright blue t-shirt, but if he kept to the shadows he probably wouldn’t draw  _ too _ much attention.

 

**~~~**

 

It was midnight by the time Michael made it to Madeline’s. All eyes landed on him when he came in the back door, and three out of four pairs were staring daggers at him.

Madeline was chain smoking at the dining table. Lily had been too terrified by whatever her nightmare had been to go back to sleep, but she was also too tired to keep up her stoicism from earlier in the day and was curled up in Fiona’s arms in one corner of the sofa.

Sam had tried to get a hold of Michael by phone for a while earlier, but had given up after about a dozen attempts and was now halfway through his second six-pack. “Check your phone much, buddy?” he asked in an overly casual tone.

Michael pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen, seeing the lengthy list of missed calls and texts. “No, Sam. I… had an unexpected visitor.”

Sam’s eyebrow shot up and Michael gave him a subtle look. Sam nodded almost imperceptibly in acknowledgement and Michael knew that he had understood who the visitor had been. 

Sliding into a seat at the table, Michael looked at Madeline and quietly asked, “How have things been here?” He received a cold glare in response. “I’ll take that to mean ‘not good’. What’s going on?”

Madeline kept her voice low. “Lily’s a wreck. She’s scared, Michael. The uncertainty of what’s going to happen to her is making her anxious. She’s convinced herself that she’s destined to be tossed aside when you finish this crusade, and she spent the whole day forcing herself onto an island. She’s stubborn as hell. Dodged every attempt at comfort I’ve made all day.”

Michael looked over at Lily, who was watching him closely from where her head was resting over Fiona’s heart. “Every attempt?”

“She had a nightmare three hours ago. Screamed bloody murder in her sleep and nearly took out Fiona’s eye before she finally woke up. Follow that with a solid hour of crying her eyes out and you have a very tired little girl who doesn’t have the energy to resist any more.”

“She’s too scared to go back to sleep, Mike, and she won’t tell us what the dream was about. We’ve all tried.”

Michael took a deep breath. “Guess it’s my turn, then.”

“Michael, we need to—” 

“When the job is done, Mom. Not before.” Michael regarded Madeline and Sam with a look that he hoped communicated once and for all that this statement was non-negotiable.

“The  _ instant _ this job is over, Michael,” Madeline commanded.

Michael nodded and stood up. As he made his way to the sofa, Fiona’s eyes narrowed. He held his hands out in supplication. “Someone stopped by the loft. I had to deal with that.”

“Who?” asked Fiona coldly.

Michael responded with the look that meant  _ I’ll tell you later _ , and Fiona returned it with the look that said  _ You’re in big trouble right now and I’m expecting a damn good explanation. _

“Let me take over for a while?”

Fiona looked down at Lily. “Okay, Lily-girl?” 

Lily shrugged. 

“Hey,” Fiona said gently as she tilted Lily’s chin up. She kissed her forehead and then whispered something in her ear. Michael recognized the language — Irish Gaelic — but not the words. Lily burrowed into her arms and Fiona held her for another minute before she stood up and handed her off to Michael, walking silently away to join Sam and Madeline at the table.

Michael sat down in the spot on the sofa that Fiona had vacated, settling Lily against him. “Mom said you had a nightmare.” 

Lily nodded against his collarbone. 

“It must’ve been a pretty bad one if you’re too scared to fall asleep again.” 

Another nod. 

“What was it about?” 

A violent shake of the head. 

“You might feel better if you talk about it.” 

Another head shake. 

_ Oh, Lily-girl, you’re not going to make this easy, are you? _ he thought. 

And then he remembered. 

He remembered Nate sneaking into his room on the nights their dad went ballistic. Remembered letting Nate crawl into bed with him, not saying a word, just understanding that his baby brother needed him. Remembered getting kicked in his already battered ribs when Nate dreamed on those nights, fighting battles Michael couldn’t see, but could imagine very, very clearly.

He took a heavy breath. “Was it about your dad?”

Lily went rigid.

“Was it about the things he did to you?”

Lily stopped breathing. 

Michael waited, and waited, and waited some more, until he finally felt the tiniest nod. He shifted Lily in his arms so that they were looking at each other, and then he took her right hand and placed it on the scars under his left eye. “You see these?” 

Lily nodded, running her fingers gently across the marks. 

“My dad gave them to me.” 

Lily’s eyes flicked up from the scars to meet Michael’s. 

“My dad was a lot like your dad, Lily, but he’s gone now. Your dad is gone now.” Lily was still wearing a healthy trace of that old wild-eyed terror — the kind that had been behind her eyes when he and Fiona had first found her — and suddenly, Michael knew exactly the words to say to chase it away. “They’re not coming back, Lily-girl. They can’t hurt us anymore.”

Lily was perfectly still for a second, and then, leaving her right hand on Michael’s scars, she brought her left up to the scar on her lip. “You’re like me,” she whispered.

Michael nodded.  _ Judging by looks alone, no one would ever guess she wasn’t actually yours,  _ he thought.  _  Those are your eyes staring back at you. _

It was Lily who broke the gaze, leaning forward against his chest, practically melting into him. 

He shifted her back to a more comfortable position for them both and murmured, “Will you try to get some sleep for me, Lily-girl? I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He felt her nod, and about two minutes later she was fast asleep.

About ten minutes after that, Michael followed her.


	7. Chapter 7

They were on the third possible location to rig for the Bates job when Sam’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Finley?”

“Speaking.” Sam waved a hand at Michael and Fiona, motioning them to keep quiet.

“Mr. Finley, this is Matthew Bates.”

“Ah, Mr. Bates. Good to hear from you.”

“Would you be available this afternoon to discuss our proposed transaction?”

“I would. Did you have someplace in mind?”

“One o’clock at the Coral Reef Yacht Club.”

Sam checked his watch — plenty of time. “Fine, Mr. Bates. I look forward to seeing you.”

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Finley.”

Bates rang off and Sam turned to the others. “Got a meeting with Bates. One o’clock, Coral Reef Yacht Club. How do we feel about this one, anyway? It’s miles better than the last two.”

“Miles,” Michael repeated.

“There’s excellent perimeter coverage.” Fiona was looking out one of the holes where a window should have been.

Michael, meanwhile, had started knocking on the walls. “Sheetrock. Standard two feet between studs. I’m not sure how we want to work the hide.” 

They had decided to bring Lily along with them because she was going to need to be familiar with the layout of the site, though they hadn’t told her what her part would be in all this, or even that she was going to have one. Sam and Fiona looked at Michael, and Fiona tossed her head in Lily’s direction.

Lily, who had completely bounced back from her bout of stoicism the day before, seemed just to be excited to be somewhere that wasn’t the loft or Madeline’s. She had been picking up interesting looking stones and bits of wood and flowers as they had gone along and was sitting in a smaller room off of the main one which would probably have been a closet if construction hadn’t been halted, organizing her treasures into little piles that only made sense to her four-year-old mind.

“Lily,” Michael called. “Come here for a minute.” Lily skipped over to the grown-ups and Michael knelt down in front of her so that they were eye-to-eye. “Where were you hiding when all the people were at your house and they were looking for you but couldn’t find you?”

Lily chewed her lower lip and looked around the room. “There isn’t one.”

“Isn’t one what, Lily-girl?” Fiona asked.

“In the wall. There isn’t one here.” Lily looked up at Fiona as though this should make perfect sense.

Sam pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Lily along with a pen. “Can you draw the thing in the wall, squirt?”

Lily nodded and set to work while Michael and Fiona looked at Sam, surprised, and Sam looked back, smug. 

About a minute later, Lily handed the pen and paper back to Sam. She had drawn a large rectangle with a smaller rectangle in the center of it at the bottom. The smaller rectangle had four columns of horizontal lines inside it. 

Sam studied the drawing for a second and then said, “A wall vent.”

Michael and Fiona nodded in understanding, and Michael started looking at the walls again.

“They almost did find me, though,” Lily said.

Michael looked back at her. “How?”

Lily took her drawing back from Sam and pointed to a corner of the representation of the wall vent. “It was sharp.” She moved her hand and rubbed the long scab on her left arm.

Michael put two and two together. “That’s what cut your arm?”

Lily nodded. “I think they saw the blood, maybe. But I held my breath an’ they went away. It was dark in there.”

“Were you right behind this?” Fiona asked, pointing to the grate on Lily’s drawing.

“Nuh-uh. Around the corner.”

Sam said, “Show us on the picture, Lily.” 

Lily drew a seated stick figure directly to the side of the smaller rectangle representing the vent cover, but still within the larger rectangle representing the wall. 

“There must have been a kind of a crawl space or something, Mike.”

“It’s where he hid the stuff, but there wasn’t any more of it ‘cause it got sold,” Lily said.

Michael nodded. “Well, there’s our answer. False wall, hinged vent grate, side cubby.”

“Simple enough,” Sam replied.

“You should probably explain everything to Lily, Michael,” Fiona prompted.

Michael sighed and sat down with his back against a wall, waving Lily over. She sat facing him and Fiona scooted in behind her, pulling Lily onto her lap. Sam leaned on the wall next to Michael.

Lily’s impossibly blue eyes were focused on him, as were Fiona’s behind her, and it took Michael a minute to jump-start his brain because as similar as Lily’s eyes were to his, they were equally so to Fiona’s, and that both surprised him and it didn’t. He gave himself a little mental shake.  _ Focus. How in the hell do you explain to a four-year-old that you need to use her as a pawn in what could become a very dangerous game? _ Michael thought.  _ Game. Actually… _ “Lily, we’re going to trick the man your parents tried to sell you to into a trap, but we’re going to need your help to catch him. We’re going to need you to do some pretending, kind of like a game. Do you think you can do that?”

Lily looked a little puzzled. “Why do I have to pretend?”

“Well…” Michael faltered.

Sam took over the thought. “Mike and I are going to pretend with you, squirt. You see, we have to pretend that Mike found you and brought you to the bad guy, and the bad guy is going to sell you to me. Make sense?”

Lily just blinked, eyes wide, nervous.

“We won’t ever leave you alone with him, Lily,” Michael soothed. “If I’m not with you, Uncle Sam will be, okay?”

Sam added, “All you have to do is just what we tell you to do, and everything will be fine. We’ll practice a whole bunch beforehand. I know you can do it.”

“We’re going to build you a place to hide, just like the one you hid in before,” Michael explained. “We have to wait until Uncle Sam meets with Mr. Bates to see how the whole thing will work, but the most important thing is making sure you’re going to be safe, okay? I know this is kind of a scary thing, but if you think about it you’ve really already done it once before, haven’t you?”

Lily thought for a second and then tentatively nodded.

“And this time, you’ll have me and Uncle Sam and Fi with you.”

Lily nodded a little more confidently. Then she craned her neck back to look at Fiona. “What will you do?”

Fiona levered Lily out of her lap and stood up. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

She and Lily went outside and Sam and Michael could hear Fiona educating her in the finer points of lying-in-wait as they wandered towards the trees surrounding the building.

Sam turned to Michael. “So… Larry, huh?”

“Yeah. Unless you’re talking to Fi. I told her it was Oleg, and there was something wrong with the plumbing leaking down into the club.”

“Did she buy it?”

“Probably not, but she didn’t ask questions. Or deck me.”

“That’s kind of a big deal, considering.” Sam chuckled, then sobered. “So where were you?”

“Breaking into Westchester General to get a binder. I haven’t looked at it yet. I’m supposed to meet Larry on Monday, at 2:45 but I haven’t worked out where.”

“He didn’t leave a message?”

“He did. Carved in a heart on a tree.”

Sam made a face. “That’s awful cute for Larry. What is it?”

“‘MO + NDE = Forever’. MO is Monday, NDE is 14, 4, 5 if you assign numbers to the letters of the alphabet.”

“That’s a seriously weak code. He must be slipping.”

“It’s the ‘forever’ part that’s got me. Do you know anywhere in the city with ‘forever’ in the name?”

“I can tell you with certainty that it’s not a bar, or a restaurant  _ with _ a bar. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

“The only other thing I can think is… What’s the oldest landmark in Miami?”

“Um… the monastery? Technically, anyway. It was built in Spain in the twelfth century or something, then Hearst bought it in 1925 and moved it here in pieces and they rebuilt it in the fifties.”

“That would make sense. It’ll be crawling with tourists. He knows I won’t willfully put innocent people in danger.”

Fiona called from outside, “Are you boys coming or what?”

“Coming, Fi!” Michael answered.

 

**~~~**

 

Sam was stifling in his suit as he entered the lobby of the Coral Reef Yacht Club, jealously looking sidelong at the khakis and Tommy Bahamas wandering past him. He knew that Bates would show up decked to the nines, though, so appearances had to be kept.

“Good afternoon, sir!” chirped the girl manning the desk. “How may I help you?”

“I’m meeting a Mr. Bates, sweetheart, has he arrived yet?” Sam laid on the sleaze a little thinner than might be completely convincing, but from the look of her, the receptionist was barely legal.

“Oh, yes. You must be Mr. Finley.” She waved over a porter. “Raul, can you please take Mr. Finley to Mr. Bates’ lanai table?”

Raul nodded and as Sam followed him away from the desk he called back, “Thank you, honey!”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Finley!”

_ Geezus. If she was my kid I’d never let her out of the house _ , Sam thought as Raul ushered him through a set of double doors and out onto a vast patio overlooking the moored yachts. Bates was at a table in a corner partially obscured by potted bamboo palms. Sam made his way over, waving a cursory thank you to the porter. “Mr. Bates.”

“Ah, Mr. Finley. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Bates extended a hand and Sam shook it. “No trouble at all.”

“Please, sit down. Can I offer you a drink?”

A cocktail waitress appeared out of nowhere, looking to be all of half a minute older than the girl at reception, and Sam said, “I’ll have whatever Mr. Bates is drinking, thank you, sugar.” He cringed internally, but raised a lecherous eyebrow at Bates as the waitress walked away to fill his order.

“Macallan 12-year, Mr. Finley. I prefer it to the 18-year, to be honest.”

“Over-aged, the 18-year,” Sam agreed. “Are all the lady staff here…”

“Exceptional,  _ young  _ specimens of the female form? Yes, Mr. Finley. They do seem to employ a ‘type’.”

The waitress returned with Sam’s whiskey. “Thank you, darlin’.”

She nodded and left them to their business.

“So, Mr. Finley,” Bates drawled, “we have yet to discuss exactly what it is that you’re looking for.”

Sam took a sip of the Macallan. “I suppose that’s going to depend on what you can supply, Mr. Bates. I understand that you have two major forms of merchandise on the reg, but you occasionally get a third…?”

“Very occasionally, I’m afraid, though in anticipation of the possibility of you seeking that particular form of recreation, I sent someone on the hunt. If he delivers and the merchandise meets your standards, I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”

“And if he doesn’t deliver?”

“Then there’s still the other two categories to choose from, isn’t there, Mr. Finley?” Bates gave a dangerous smile.

“Chemical recreation would be runner-up, but I do hope your man brings in some pretty little plaything for me. Of course, if it doesn’t quite fit the bill, we’ll have to try again.” Sam wanted to puke. This was almost too much.

“Of course we’d try again, Mr. Finley. And in the event that you have to wait, I can make it worth your while.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Bates nodded. “Now — and please don’t think me crude, Mr. Finley, I assure you this is strictly for the sake of business — there is the question of remuneration.”

Sam took an envelope out of the inside pocket of his blazer and handed it to Bates. It contained printouts of the dummy accounts Barry had set up, making ‘Chuck Finley’ look so far in the black as to be nearly invisible. Bates perused the documents with detached interest, and when he was finished, he handed them back to Sam.

“If my man delivers to your taste, I’ll need one hundred thousand. In bearer bonds.”

“That won’t be a problem, Mr. Bates.”

“Excellent. I’ll give him until the end of the week, and then we’ll re-assess based on his progress. Sound reasonable?”

“Very.” Sam finished off the Macallan. “We can discuss alternatives then.” They shook hands and Sam stood up. “I look forward to hearing from you, Mr. Bates.”

As Sam drove away from the yacht club he dialed Michael. “Get to the hardware store, bucko. We’ve got some building to do.”


	8. Chapter 8

*******

_ When you’re building a false wall you have to pay very close attention to what’s around it. It has to look as though it was meant to be there, as though it’s been there since time immemorial, and wasn’t put up in two hours the day before the job. Matching things like paint colors and texturing is usually the least of your worries. Is there water damage in the room? Evidence of termites or other pests? Mold? If you’re building in an old or abandoned location, the hard stuff is getting the new to look like the existing. _

*******

Sam and Michael stood back and examined their handiwork. It was impossible to tell that they’d just encroached on the floor space of the room by three feet. They had used the biggest horizontal vent cover they could find, hinged at the top, and they had bent the bottom right corner out slightly to provide an easy grip for small fingers so that all Lily had to do was flip it up and crawl in — it would shut itself behind her. The hide was double-lined on the inside with phone books which should stop any stray bullets before they reached its occupant. The idea was that once the inevitable scuffle began, Lily would get in and stay put until Michael came to get her when things were under control again. She would just fit into the space if she sat like she frequently did with her knees tucked up to her chest — she’d be clear of the grate, safely inside the wall.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to get Bates to agree to meet you here, anyway? I mean, in his operation he definitely calls the shots. I’m not sure he’ll go with the new guy telling him where to execute a deal.”

“I’ll play it up like I’ve been keeping her here and it’s easier to come to me than me take her out in the open because that might attract attention.” Michael looked around the room. “If we hung a door, we could set that closet over there up like a holding cell.”

Sam assessed the closet. “There’s not too many actual doors on the insides of these, though, Mike. It might look out of place.”

“So we make it look extra out of place and leave some construction debris lying around. That way it looks like I put the door on in a hurry so I could keep the kid contained somewhere out of sight of the public.”

“Okay, I can see that,” Sam agreed. “I’ll do the door and set up the closet with some blankets or whatever. You’d better get back to your mom’s and start working with Lily.”

“Yeah,” Michael muttered, but he didn’t move.

“Mike.”

“I wish we had another plan.”

“I know. But she’s a smart little kid, and she worships the ground you walk on. She’d follow you straight into Hell without a second thought, brother.”

“That’s kind of where I’m taking her, isn’t it?”

Sam rested one big hand on Michael’s shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes. “No. It’s not.”

Michael sighed. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll call you when it’s time to bring her out for dress rehearsal.”

Michael gave Sam a half smile and left. Firing up the Charger, he headed for Madeline’s, playing through the scene of the deal in his head, trying to think of any possible variables and how to prepare Lily for the event in its entirety. He knew Sam was right, that Lily would do anything he told her to, up to and including skipping happily down the primrose path straight into a death trap. The hardest part was that he knew he could trust Sam to improvise when something went wrong. He knew he could trust Fiona to keep the enemy at bay by herself. Hell, he could even trust his  _ mother _ to hold her own and lie her face off these days. But Lily? He had no doubt that she could learn everything they needed her to, and he was certain that she could be convincing, but she was just so… little.

_ She can’t protect herself if it comes to it. And what if she freezes when the moment actually comes? Or gets scared and bolts? Or somehow lets something slip too early? She’s a—  _ he stopped himself there. The word was ‘liability’, but accurate as it was, something was stopping him from applying it to Lily. She was completely dependent on them — on  _ him _ . 

The weight of that realization made Michael stop breathing. 

When he started again, he thought  _ No, that’s not fair. You put her in this situation. She’s your responsibility. You’re just going to have to make absolutely sure that she  _ IS _ ready, and she knows the plan forwards and backwards. If you show fear, she’s going to sense it and become fearful herself. You need to work this the most positive way you know how. Make it a game, like you tried to explain it yesterday. She needs you to make sure she’s safe.  _

_ She needs YOU. _

Somehow, that last thought came with an unusual warmth. Michael checked his mirrors, and finding himself alone on the road, he floored it.

 

**~~~**

 

Madeline was leafing through a magazine when Michael entered the house. She flicked the ash from the end of her ever-present cigarette into the ashtray and said, “Hi honey.”

“Hi Mom. Where’s Fi and Lily?”

“Out back.”

“Thanks.”

Michael wandered out to the back yard and found Fiona on a chaise lounge enjoying the sun. “Hey.”

Fiona slid her sunglasses up on top of her head. “Did you two finish the hide?”

“Yeah. Where’s Lily?”

Fiona pointed to the tree Lily liked to climb. Michael raised an eyebrow but only got the same in return. Clearly she was still upset with him over the Bates plan, and he knew better than to start a fight. Fiona would come through. She always came through, no matter how wrong she thought he was.

Michael walked over to the tree and found Lily around the back of it, sitting on a branch about the level of his shoulders, tucked neatly into a ‘v’ between two other branches and the trunk. She was hugging her stuffed hippo in one arm and picking at the tree bark with her free hand.

“Hey, Lily-girl.”

“Hi,” Lily replied.

“Did you have lunch yet?”

She nodded.

“What did you— wait, no, don’t tell me. Peanut butter sandwich.”

“Nuh-uh. Leftover pisghetti from last night.”

“Did you guys leave any for me?” 

Lily shook her head. “Nope. It’s all gone.”

“Well that’s just great. What am I supposed to eat now?” 

Lily gave a little smirk. “Peanut butter sammich?”

Michael laughed. “I guess so. Come on, we need to work on the game plan for getting the bad guys.” 

He held out his arms and Lily leaned forward so he could help her out of the tree. Usually he’d put her down, but today he just didn’t feel like it and he carried her over to the garage, setting her on the edge of the workbench. He looked around for a minute, trying to find things to create representations of the places at the deal site that Lily would need to learn. Spotting a large, empty cardboard box, he turned it on its side and set it at one end of the garage. Then he took four other boxes and placed them in a rectangle, the space between them approximately the size of the closet. Satisfied with his replica, Michael turned around and found Lily studying the boxes he’d placed.

_ Make it a game. Keep it light. The more comfortable she is, the less likely anything will go wrong. _ He levered himself up onto the workbench next to Lily and pulled her up into his lap. “All right, Lily-girl. Let me tell you the story. The bad guy’s name is Mr. Bates. You remember him?”

Lily nodded. “He wouldn’t buy me because I was broke.”

Michael cringed internally. “Right. That’s him. I’ve been—” He stopped, noticing Lily rubbing at the scar on her lip, looking at the garage floor. He carefully pulled her hand away from her face and held her a little closer. “I’ve been pretending to be a bad guy called Johnny Booker, and Uncle Sam has been pretending to be  _ another _ bad guy, Chuck Finley. Make sense so far?”

“Kinda. I think so.”

“Explain it to me the way you understand it.”

Lily furrowed her brows for a second. “You an’ Uncle Sam are both pretending to be bad guys, like Mr. Bates.”

“Good. Now, here’s where it gets a little tricky, so you need to pay attention, okay?” Lily nodded, looking at Michael as though his word was gospel, which in their current situation Michael thought it kind of had to be. “I’m pretending to work for Mr. Bates. He told me he needed a little girl to sell.”

“Me?”

“That’s who you’re going to pretend to be, yeah.”

“What about Uncle Sam?”

“Uncle Sam is pretending to be the person who wants to buy you.”

“But if Uncle Sam wanted to buy me, why wouldn’t he just get me from you?”

_ If criminals thought like four-year-olds, my job would be so much easier _ , Michael thought. “Well, Uncle Sam and I have to pretend we don’t know each other.” Lily was just looking confused, so Michael decided to change tack. “Maybe we’ll talk about that more when he’s with us. Do you see what I did with the boxes?”

Lily nodded.

Michael pointed to the large box on its side. “We’re going to practice by pretending that that one is the hiding place we made for you in the wall out at the building we were at yesterday, and those,” he pointed to the four boxes in a rectangle at the other end of the garage, “are the little room on the other side of the big room. Remember what it looked like?”

“Uh-huh. I think I left my rocks in the little room.”

“I think you did.” Michael smiled. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You and I are going to get out there early, before Mr. Bates, before Uncle Sam, before everybody. We’re going to pretend that I put you in the little room after I found you so you couldn’t get away. Then Mr. Bates and Uncle Sam are going to come and Uncle Sam is going to ask to see you, so I’ll open the door to the little room. He’ll go in with you for a minute, and then he’ll go talk to Mr. Bates and I’ll take you  _ out  _ of the little room. When Uncle Sam hands Mr. Bates a suitcase, you’re going to get straight into the hiding place we made for you. Fi and Uncle Sam and I will take care of the rest, and then I’ll come get you and we’ll come home. Okay?”

“What else do I hafta do? Do I hafta say anything?”

“No, you don’t have to say anything.” Michael smoothed a few flyaway hairs back behind Lily’s ear. She looked a bit lost and he wracked his brain to find something to give her to work with — something she would be able to understand without excess coaching. “Do you remember how you were when Fi and I found you? How you wouldn’t talk, and you pulled away any time we got near you?” 

She nodded and he felt her start to pull away almost instinctively. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing her back. “Not now. Only when we’re pretending, okay? That’s what we need you to do for a little while when we do the job. None of us want you to go back to doing that all the time. Ever.”

Lily looked up at him from under her lashes, cerulean eyes threatening to spill over any second. She opened her mouth to say something but then seemed to think better of it and looked down at her hands instead where they were resting on Michael’s forearm.

Michael looked at them, too, and the sheer tininess of them drove home for the umpteenth time the fact that he was asking something so big of someone so little.  _ So much for keeping it light _ , he thought. “Lily?”

“Yeah?”

“How fast do you think you could go from standing next to me at the far end of the garage to inside that box?”

Lily looked from one to the other. “Dunno.”

“You wanna find out?” She looked up at him and he did his best to smile. 

“”Kay.”

“Atta girl.” He hopped down from the workbench and set her next to him on the floor the full length of the garage away from the big box. “Hold on to my pocket.”

Lily took hold of the hem of the front pocket of his jeans while Michael pushed some buttons on his watch.

“Ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay… GO!”

Lily bolted for the box and landed inside it with a  _ thump _ , pulling the flaps closed behind herself.

“Not bad, Lily-girl! Six seconds! I bet you can do it faster, though.” There was no response from the box. “Lily?”

The bottom box flap fell open and Lily peeked out at him. “Ow.”

“...Maybe we’d better throw a blanket in there before we try again.”

 

**~~~**

 

Half an hour later when Sam called to let Michael know that he’d sorted out the door and kitted out the little room, Lily was managing to get into the box in four seconds flat and she and Michael were laughing like a pair of loons.

“Come on, Lily-girl. Uncle Sam’s ready for us.”

She grabbed his hand and they walked through the house on their way to the Charger which was parked out front. Madeline and Fiona were flipping through magazines and drinking iced tea on the sofa.

“Sounded like you two were having a whale of a time out there,” Madeline said when they came in the back door.

Lily let go of Michael’s hand and rushed over to her, hopping up into her lap and throwing her arms around Madeline’s neck. “I can do it in  _ four seconds _ ! That’s  _ fast _ !”

“That’s great, baby!” Madeline said with enthusiasm, hugging back and peering at Michael over Lily’s head with a look that said  _ What the hell is she talking about?! _

Lily scrambled over to Fiona on the other side of the sofa and subjected her to the same zealous, wiggly hug. “We’re gonna go see Uncle Sam now.”

Lily was about to run back to Michael but Fiona held onto her. “Hang on a second, speedy!” She flipped the little girl upside down and while Lily giggled like a mad thing, Fiona looked at Michael and said, “I distressed one of the dresses that ended up being a little too small for her. Do we have a rendezvous yet?”

“If things go well this afternoon I’ll make the call. Hopefully we can press him into tomorrow.”

Fiona pulled Lily back upright and kissed her nose, then whispered the same phrase Michael had overheard the other night in her ear. This time Lily whispered something back, and then skipped over to him, grabbing his hand again.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Ready!”

They walked out the front door together and Fiona and Madeline watched them go from the window, Michael lifting Lily down the steps with both of her hands in his one. Every few steps all the way to the car he’d heave her up again, eliciting a delighted squeal from her each time. Then he bundled her into the back of the Charger and they drove off.

Madeline smirked. “He’s a complete goner. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much in his whole life.”

“I honestly never thought I’d see this from him,” Fiona said quietly.

Madeline took a long look at the younger woman next to her. “You hoped you would though, didn’t you, honey.”

Fiona just let out a breath and shrugged, returning to her magazine.

 

**~~~**

 

Michael looked in the rearview mirror at Lily. She was little enough that the top of her head was barely visible at the bottom of the windows of the car, and he always had her sit in the middle of the back seat so she was even less visible to anyone passing. 

_ We really need to get her a car seat, _ he thought. Fitting it into the Charger properly would be a bit of a problem since the vehicle predated car seats completely, but they’d figure something out. Or they could put it in the Saab.  _ At least that way she’ll be safer until we figure out where…  or, you know, until she grows out of it.  _ Michael changed gears with an excessively firm grip on the gear stick.  _ No. We’ve talked about this. She can’t stay. It’s too dangerous and you know it. She needs a stable home. _ He checked his mirrors and caught a glimpse of Lily smiling to herself and watching the sky go by out the window.

Then she giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“There were these two birds flying an’ they bumped right into each other!” She started laughing in earnest. “ _ Bump! _ ” She clapped her hands together to emphasize the avian collision and kept on laughing.

Which made Michael laugh.  _ Shit. I wish you were a horrible brat, Lily-girl. It would make things a whole hell of a lot easier. _

When they pulled up outside the abandoned condos Sam was waiting for them. Michael tilted the front seat forward to let Lily out and she flew across the gravel and jumped into Sam’s arms.

“Ooph! What’s up, squirt?”

“Birds are silly!”

“Really? Why?”

As Michael joined them, he heard Lily telling Sam the story of the birds she saw from the car window. Sam laughed along with her, looking at Michael with a raised eyebrow. Michael just smiled and shook his head.

Lily kept chattering at Sam as they went inside. He carried her over to show her the hide while Michael inspected the closet. Sam had done an excellent job making it look slapdash, and he recognized the green blanket in the corner as the one Sam kept in his car for emergencies.

“I could get into the box in  _ four seconds _ !” Lily was telling Sam when Michael joined them on the other side of the room.

“That’s pretty fast, squirt, good job!”

Lily looked up at Michael. “Are we gonna do it here now? I fit perfect in the wall.”

“Yeah, Lily-girl, we’re going to practice here for a while. Let’s see how fast you can get in there.” 

Michael set them up in a few different places in the room since they didn’t know exactly where they’d be when things kicked off, and once she got the hang of the vent cover, Lily was able to get inside in seven seconds from the furthest point in the room which was twice the length of the garage, and Michael deemed this acceptable.

When Lily crawled back out of the hide after trial run number eleven or so, Michael produced a handful of zip ties from his pocket. “All right, we’re going to make it a little more challenging now.”

Sam eyed him sideways. “Loose, though, right?”

“Yeah. She’ll be able to slip out when I let go.”

“All right, brother.”

Lily had walked over to them and was looking a little warily at the zip ties in Michael’s hand. He knelt down next to her. “Hands, please.”

Lily put her hands out in front of herself but started to pull back a little when Michael started fitting the ties around her wrists.

“It’s okay, Lily-girl. They won’t be tight. You’ll be able to slide right out of them. They just have to  _ look _ like they’re keeping your hands together, okay?”

Lily gave a shaky nod.

Sam moved around and knelt behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving them a little squeeze. “Don’t worry, squirt. It’s an old trick. We use it all the time.”

Michael put one tie around each of her wrists, making sure they slipped over her hands with a minimum of force, then attached those ties with another, leaving the loop large enough that he could hold it in his hand and pull it taut, thus creating the illusion that Lily was well and truly bound. Once the center tie was in place Michael said, “See if you can slip out of them.”

Lily wiggled her hands and the whole contraption fell to the floor.

Michael picked it up and slipped it back on, holding the center tie. “Now try.”

Lily moved her hands again, but the ties stayed put.

“Good. When it’s time for you to hide I’ll let go and you start running, okay? Pull the ties off as you go so you can get the vent open.”

Lily nodded, but her eyes were focused on the restraints on her wrists and Michael’s hand holding them in place.

Sam looked at Michael, worry scrawled all over his face.

Michael looked at Sam and then back to Lily. “It’s just pretend, Lily-girl. Just for a little while. You can do it.”

Lily didn’t look up, but she nodded once and took a deep breath.

“Atta girl.” Michael looked at Sam. “We’d better start playing it out like it might actually go.”

“Mike…”

“I know, Sam. But we have to.”

“All right. Let’s get it right and get out of here, huh?”

“Yeah.”

 

**~~~**

 

Lily was curled up in the middle of the back seat of the Charger, facing the trunk. She had been so good the whole time they were out at the job site, even once they had started running through things in earnest, but once they got to that point she had withdrawn. Not so far that she stopped responding, but she hadn’t had to pretend very hard to act like she had been when Michael and Fiona had found her. She wasn’t talking, and she wouldn’t meet Michael’s or Sam’s eyes.

Michael could barely see the top of her little shoulder in the rearview mirror. She had put herself in the car as soon as Michael and Sam had decided to call a stop to their run-throughs and waited there as Michael made the call to Jeff Terns before they headed home.

“Terns. I got what the boss wanted.”

“Excellent! Where is it?”

“Abandoned development about forty-five minutes outside town.” 

“Got it. I’ll call the boss.”

“Thanks.”

Twenty minutes into the drive back to Madeline’s, Bates called Michael. “Johnny. Mr. Terns informs me that you’ve got hold of what we discussed.”

“You bet, boss. Johnny Booker always delivers.”

“You’re keeping it in an abandoned development on the outskirts?”

“Yeah, it’s on the 997 halfway between where you turn off the 41 and the South Florida Concrete Block. Can’t miss it, it’s just bang in the middle of nowhere.”

“Very good, Johnny.”

“Boss? I don’t mean to be uppity or nuthin’, but maybe you want to do the deal there?” Michael checked the rearview again and hoped to god Lily would forgive him for all of this someday. “It’s fuckin’ feral.”

“A wild thing, eh?”

“It don’t talk. Tries to bolt if it thinks it has a chance. Might be risky trying to move it without, you know, havin’ to damage it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Johnny. Let me call my buyer. We’ll be in touch.”

The line went dead and Michael dialed Sam, who was just ahead of them on the road.

“What’s up?”

“Just talked to Bates. Planted the idea that we should do the deal on our turf. He’ll be calling you pretty soon.”

“Got it. I’ll do my best to swing it in our favor. Did— hang on, other line’s beeping.”

“See you at home. Good luck.”

Michael pulled around Sam with a wave and sped up. “Not long now, Lily-girl. We’ll be home in about twenty minutes.” 

There was no response from the back seat.

“You hungry? You wanna stop and get something to take home with us?”

Still no response.

“Lily?”

Silence.

Michael sighed.  _ Shit. _

 

**~~~**

 

Sam pulled up to Madeline’s just in time to see Lily run in the front door. Michael was next to the Charger, and as he watched the little girl disappear into the house, he leaned against the car and dragged his hands roughly through his hair and down his face, then folded his arms.

Sam joined him. “This sucks.”

“Understatement of the year.”

“Well, we’re done tomorrow. I talked Bates into doing it our way.”

“Did the two of you set a time?”

“Nine.”

Michael nodded. “The sooner the better. I hate myself for putting her through this.”

“You’re not the only one to blame,” Sam said quietly. “It was my stupid idea in the first place and believe me, I’m not my own biggest fan right now.”

Michael’s phone rang and he looked at Sam. “Did you lock the closet when you left?”

“Yup. Bundled up the blanket to look like someone was sleeping in it and left a bunch of stuff lying around, too, just in case.”

“Yee-Ello.”

“Johnny.”

“Mr. Bates.”

“The client will be making a visit to check out the merchandise tomorrow. Nine o’clock. Mr. Terns, Mr. DiRosa and I will also be in attendance.”

“Got it, boss. See ya in the mornin’.” Michael hung up. “Well, we’ll have Bates, Terns, and DiRosa to deal with at a minimum.”

“Fi’ll prep for three times that many.”

Michael nodded and heaved himself up from the side of the car, walking up the path with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging, Sam beside him mirroring his posture. When they entered the house, Sam headed for the fridge. Madeline and Fiona weren’t in the living room or at the table so Michael walked through and out the back door.

“How did it go?” Fiona asked from a chaise lounge.

“As well as could be expected. Lily’s ready and we’ve got a deal set. Nine tomorrow.”

“Hmm.”

Seeing Sam come out the back door alone, beer in hand, Madeline pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. “Where’s Lily?”

“I thought she was out here with you guys,” Sam replied.

Michael turned quickly to his mother. “She’s not out here?”

“Do you  _ see _ her out here, Michael?” Madeline said brusquely.

“I figured she was up the tree.”

“She’s not out here,” Fiona said, worried.

Michael spun around and headed back into the house, going straight to Lily’s room and breathing a sigh of relief when he found a little lump in the bed facing the wall. Noticing her hippo on top of the dresser, he grabbed it and walked over, sitting down when he got there and putting the stuffed animal in front of her.

“You okay, Lily-girl?” He knew it was a loaded question, and he didn’t expect an answer. “It’ll all be over tomorrow. We’ll stay here tonight, we’ll do the job in the morning, and that’ll be it. It’s going to be okay, Lily. I promise.” He saw a little jerk in her breathing and reached out, placing a hand on her head, running his thumb across her hair. She didn’t respond to the touch, but she didn’t pull away, either.  _ At least she hasn’t reverted that far, _ he thought. “We’re all here. Mom and me and Fi and Uncle Sam. You’re safe, Lily-girl.” 

In that moment there were so many things he found himself wanting to say to the little girl next to him, but all of them were so overwhelmingly emotional and foreign that he swallowed them and instead said, “Can I stay with you a while?” He fluffed up a pillow to rest against, putting his hand back on her head once he was settled, hoping the closeness would help.

About ten minutes passed before Michael heard the back door open and close. 

A few seconds after that, Madeline came into the room and sat down at the foot of the bed, resting her back against the wall and rubbing one of Lily’s legs through the covers. “Uncle Sam was just telling me what a trooper you were today, baby. He’s so proud of you.”

“So am I,” Michael said quietly.

There was an audible sniff from under the blankets.

Michael and Madeline looked at each other. “You know,” Madeline said, “I’d say all of this has definitely earned you ice cream for dinner. What do you think, Michael?”

“Absolutely.” Michael smiled, grateful for Madeline’s help. He knew he’d probably get an earful later, but for now all that mattered was Lily.

Madeline poked the Lily-shaped lump. “But you have to come out. I draw the line at ice cream in bed.”

Lily curled up a little tighter.

Michael leaned over to his mother and whispered loudly, “I guess we’ll just have to let Sam eat it all.”

There was a sudden flurry of covers as Lily sat bolt-upright, indignance all over her little face.

Michael pointed at her and said, “Ha! Knew that would work!” WIthout waiting for a response he swooped in, heaved a now-giggling Lily over his shoulder, and headed for the kitchen.

Madeline just shook her head and followed.


	9. Chapter 9

*******

_ The last few hours before any operation are always the worst. The anticipation can play tricks on your mind, make you second guess your choices. Everything you’ve painstakingly prepared suddenly seems to have twelve things wrong with it — you keep thinking you’ve found holes in your watertight plans. There’s nothing you can do about it, it happens every time. You just have to keep running through the things you know and try to keep from making any changes as a result of the nerves. _

_ The longer you play the intelligence game, the less the anxiety gets to you. In the beginning sleep will evade you, but as time goes on you get used to it. You still overthink, but you do get used to it. _

_ Unless a job gets personal.  _

*******

It was two o’clock in the morning. Madeline had gone to bed, Sam’s soft snores could be heard coming from Nate’s room, and Lily and Fiona were tucked away together in Michael’s old room.

Michael was sitting alone at the table, listening to the familiar sounds of the house he grew up in — the three pops before the fridge ran a cooling cycle, the occasional crack of the wood contracting after being swollen by the day’s heat and humidity, the slow whoosh of the ceiling fan over his head. The only light was the golden glow of the lamp on the end table in the living room. It was weak, but it wasn’t as if Michael needed to be able to see to navigate the house or illuminate what he was doing, since all of it was in his head.

Earlier that evening they had all been at the table when Sam had reached across with his spoon. 

Lily had moved her bowl just out of his reach and given him a look.

_ What? I’m all out over here and you still have some. _

_ Yeah, but you had more’n me to start! _

_ I did not!  _ Sam had retorted.

_ Did so! I saw you sneak extra when Maddie wasn’t looking. _

Sam had brought out all the dramatics then.  _ Oh, that’s a low blow, squirt! I thought we had each other’s backs, and you go tattling on me. You didn’t rat  _ Mike _ out, and he did the same thing! _

Michael had chimed in then, saying,  _ That’s because Mike’s smart enough to keep his spoon to himself. _

Michael and Lily had grinned at each other and Sam had whined,  _ Maddie, they’re being mean to me! _

_ If you’re going to go around stealing people’s ice cream you deserve everything you get, _ Madeline had said, collecting Sam’s empty bowl and taking it with her to the kitchen.

_ Fine,  _ Sam had huffed.  _ I see how it is. _

_ Give up, Sam,  _ Fiona had said, licking her spoon.  _ She’s too smart for your tricks. It’s so sad. We’ll have to put it on your headstone: Here lies Sam Axe, he was outfoxed on the regular by a four-year-old. _

_ When he wasn’t doing her pigtails, _ Michael had added.

_ Now listen here you two— _

_ Children!  _ Madeline had scolded from the kitchen, pointedly brandishing a spoon in their direction.  _ There will be no more ice cream dinners in this house if you all can’t get along! _ It would have had much more impact if she hadn’t started laughing halfway through her sentence. 

And if they hadn’t all joined in. 

It had been one of the incredibly rare times that the Westen house was filled with genuine joy.

But instead of giving Michael a sense of security, it had just pushed his mind into overdrive on the Bates job. He had played out the ‘what-ifs’ for what felt like a hundred times. He had checked and double-checked and cross-checked the plan from beginning to end. They had all foreseeable contingencies covered. Sam’s access to a high-quality printer made their forged bearer bonds impossible to tell from real to the naked eye. Fiona had three options ready to silently incapacitate Bates’ goons. Lily was as ready as she was going to be, and she was far more ready than Michael had even hoped.

Still, the weight of this job was more than any he’d ever run. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had clients take a part in their operations before, and Michael was always more nervous when they had someone completely untrained taking part, but this time that person was also completely dependent on them to pull this off. They had to, or Lily… he didn’t want to think about it.

Before she had gone to bed Madeline had said to him,  _ I’ve stopped questioning your methods at this point, Michael. Just make sure you bring her home in one piece. _

And it wasn’t just the Bates job — he still had Larry to worry about. 

Larry, who wasn’t above playing dirty to get what he wanted if he thought that Michael wasn’t toeing the line. Michael wasn’t looking forward to Monday. He’d gone back to the loft for a couple of things when he’d had some spare time and he had read through the binder Larry had had him lift. It was a case study — some sort of experimental treatment for a rare form of cancer. The patient wasn’t named, just coded with a series of numbers. There were so many things Larry could want this information for, and Michael was sure none of them were on the up-and-up. But Michael knew that as long as he played ball, Larry would take what he wanted and then go back to being dead. At least for a while.

He just hoped that Larry would stay away from everyone else currently asleep in that house.

Standing up with a sigh he walked down the hall, stopping at the doorway to his room — Lily’s room, now — and leaning on the frame. Fiona was laying in the bed against the wall, one arm around Lily who was spooned up in front of her. He stood for a while, just watching them, berating himself for ever having gotten attached to anyone, ever. Attachment bred responsibility. Being responsible for a job or a cause was one thing. Being responsible for another human being? It was too much. If anything ever happened to the two beautiful, fierce creatures in that bed in front of him as the result of something he’d gotten them into…

He started to go back to the living room, but as he did, Lily’s eyes opened. They looked at each other for a second and then she reached for him. He walked over and knelt down beside the edge of the bed, resting his head on his folded arms so that they were practically nose to nose. 

Lily took hold of one of his fingers.

“Can’t sleep, Lily-girl?” He whispered.

Lily shook her head.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

The movement and Michael’s voice roused Fiona, and her eyes fluttered open. “What’s wrong, Lily-girl?” she asked, pulling her a little closer.

“Can’t sleep,” Lily whispered back.

Fiona looked at Michael. “You, too?”

“Yeah.” He smoothed some of Lily’s hair back from her face and asked, “You wanna come out and sit with me for a while?”

Lily craned her neck and looked back at Fiona, who smiled and kissed her nose. She looked back at Michael and shook her head.

“Okay,” he said, and started to stand up, but he was stopped by Lily who hadn’t let go of his finger. “What’s up?”

Lily looked back at Fiona again, then at Michael. She tugged on his hand and said, “Stay?”

One look at that earnest little face and Michael knew he was doomed. He looked at Fiona. “Okay, Fi?”

She had that look on, the one that said  _ I’m still not crazy about what you’ve gotten us in to, but I’m getting tired of being mad at you.  _ “It’s always been okay.”

It was a tight squeeze in the double bed, but once the three of them shifted a bit it was surprisingly cozy. Michael and Fiona had always fit together somehow, as though they were made up of each other’s negative space, like a tessellation. With Lily between them, her head safely nestled underneath their chins as they rested their foreheads together, Fiona’s arm around Lily and Michael’s around both of them, that flawless fit still existed. It felt a little different to Michael, but not in a bad way. In a painfully perfect way.

He kissed the top of Lily’s head, then shared a kiss with Fiona, who shifted the arm not around Lily so that she could tangle her fingers with his. The last thing any of them heard before they fell asleep was Lily letting out a contented little sigh.

 

**~~~**

 

It was eight-thirty. Michael and Lily were sitting against the wall in the closet at the job site. Lily had gotten a little teary when they’d left the house, holding on to Sam and then Madeline and then Fiona as long as she could. She hadn’t spoken a word the whole drive out.

Fiona had worked Lily over a bit — purposefully mussed her hair, artfully concealed the scar on her face and the scab on her arm with makeup, and sent her outside in a pair of dollar store flip-flops to jump in a few muddy puddles. She had done a number on the dress she put Lily in, too, tearing it in places, smudging it up with whatever was handy, fraying the hems. Lily definitely looked the part. 

Michael knew she was feeling it, too, and it was wearing on him. He checked his watch — half an hour to go. He knew Fiona was out there somewhere, concealed and waiting. Sam would be driving in by now, and Bates and his guys. He pushed his nerves away. “Not long now, Lily-girl. It’ll be over before you know it, and we’ll be back at Mom’s for more ice cream.”

Lily nodded.

“I need to go out and wait for everyone now, so you’re going to have to be in here on your own, and I need you to have the zip ties on so you’re ready, okay?”

She nodded again, and two little drop marks appeared on the front of her dress.

_ You already know that if there’s an afterlife you’re going straight to Hell, but you are now officially guaranteed a place in the seventh circle. _ Michael took Lily’s face in his hands and tilted it up so that they were eye to eye. “You can do this. I know you can. All you need to do is exactly what we practiced and let me and Uncle Sam and Fi do the rest. As soon as we deal with the bad guys, I’ll come get you out of the hide and we’ll get out of here. Everything’s going to be fine, Lily.”

She just looked so lost and helpless he couldn’t stand it any more. He pulled her up against him and they held each other for a few minutes. Eventually, Michael forced himself to let her go and pulled the zip tie handcuffs out of his pocket. Lily put her hands out in front of her automatically and he slid them on. She settled into a corner with the green blanket and Michael walked out of the closet but before he locked the door, he looked at her and said, “As soon as the job is done I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

Lily held his gaze as he closed the door. Once he clicked the padlock into place, Michael stormed outside, picked up a rock the size of his fist, and hurled it off into the trees. Then he leaned against the outside of the building and concentrated on breathing, walking through the job step by step. He was on his fifth cycle when he heard a vehicle approaching. 

_ Go time. _

 

**~~~**

 

Lily sat in the closet fiddling with the edge of the blanket. She didn’t figure it much mattered if she cried or not, and since she felt like it, she did. She knew that Michael and Sam would take care of her, and that Fiona would make sure that anybody else Bates brought was dealt with, but that wasn’t making the whole thing any less scary. She knew what to do, but what if she messed up anyway? She didn’t want to let Michael down. Well, all of them, really, but mostly Michael. And what would happen if she  _ did _ screw the whole thing up somehow? What would Michael do?

_He_ really _won’t let me stay if I mess up. He prob’ly won’t let me stay anyway. He gets all funny when they talk about it. Don’t wanna go, though._ Lily leaned her head against the wall. _Gotta do what he says. Always. It hurts less._ She started to rub the scar on her chin but remembered the stuff Fiona had covered it with that morning and stopped herself. _He doesn’t hurt me though. But he still could, if I messed it up._ She thought about that for a minute, remembering what he’d told her after her last big nightmare. _No. He won’t. He won’t ‘cause he’s like me. But he still might make me go somewhere else._ She entertained that line of thought for a few seconds. _Maybe it might be somewhere nice._ A fresh round of tears started. _But it won’t be as nice as with them._ _Gotta do what he told you. Just do what he told you and don’t mess it up._

She repeated that in her head until she heard voices.

“In here, boss. Sorry for the mess, I did it in a hurry.” That was Michael. “And the goods are a little dirty. Looks like it oughta clean up all right, though. Mr. Finley, you might wanna open the door slow.”

“Got ourselves a runner, huh?” Sam’s voice this time.

A third voice said, “I hope that won’t be too much of an issue, Mr. Finley.”

“Not at all. I like a little bit of spirit. Anyway, there’s plenty of ways to correct that sort of behavior.”

The padlock clicked and the door started to open. Lily was prepared for Michael and Sam to be standing there looking scary, but when she saw Bates she immediately pushed herself further into the corner. His face took her back to that last day, the one she still dreamt about. Bates had been the reason for it all, and seeing him again for real was more than she was prepared for. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

“Mr. Bates,” Sam said, “This is looking promising. Excuse me.”

Lily felt Sam walk over to her and kneel down. While Bates and Michael discussed the details of her capture, Michael spouting off the story they’d made up, she felt a gentle poke at her ankle and chanced opening her eyes.

Sam’s body was blocking her from being seen by the other two men. “You’re doing fine, squirt,” he whispered. “It’s almost over.” Then he stood up and said, loudly, “Yes, Mr. Bates, this will do nicely. I believe we have a deal.”

Sam walked out, talking to Bates now, and Michael walked in. Lily didn’t look at him, just let him take hold of the zip ties, help her up, and take her out to the other room, where Bates and Sam were standing together viewing the contents of Sam’s briefcase.

“It’s all here, Mr. Bates. One hundred thousand in bearer bonds.”

“Excellent, Mr. Finley. I hope we can do business again in the future.”

“As do I, Mr. Bates,” Sam said as he closed and latched the case. “Oh, there is one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

The ‘Chuck Finley’ veneer vanished and Sam snarled, “You’ve tangled with the wrong crew, you son of a bitch.”

The briefcase flew towards Bates’s face, Michael’s grip went slack, and Lily was gone.

_ Run, get the ties off, open the grate, roll, let it fall, _ she chanted in her head. As the grate cover fell with a crash behind her she tucked herself back into the side cubby in the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest. There was a lot of thumping and shouting but it quickly went outside — she could still hear it, but she couldn’t make out the words. All she had to do now was wait until Michael came back for her, like he promised. 

_ I think I did it okay. It felt fast. _ She stayed quiet and still, just like Michael had told her to do.  _ Hope he comes back soon. _

As the commotion continued outside, Lily heard footsteps come back into the room. And whistling. She had never heard Michael or Fiona whistle, and she knew Sam’s whistle well enough to know that it definitely wasn’t him.

_ Who is it? What am I supposed to do? _

The whistling and footsteps stopped in front of the grate, and Lily could see a shadow. She stayed still and held her breath. Suddenly, the grate was ripped forcibly from the wall and landed somewhere with a muted clang.

_ We didn’t practice this! _

There was a thump as whoever was out there put something against the opening, and the hide went black. Lily heard a drill whirring on the other side of the wall  — at least she thought that was what it was. It sounded like the one Michael used a few days before when the door on one of the cabinets in the kitchen had come loose. He had been teaching her how important it was to ‘notice all the things around you in case something happens’ and Lily had been trying to remember to do it as much as possible wherever they went. She remembered seeing a drill next to the pile of leftover construction supplies out in the big room when she and Michael had gotten there that morning. 

When the whirring stopped, the whistling resumed, and the footsteps walked away. Lily sat still for a minute. Everything was quiet — she couldn’t hear the yelling outside any more. Gingerly, she leaned forward and pressed against the thing blocking the hole. It felt like wood, and it didn’t move. She pushed a little harder. No, it wasn’t going anywhere.

She didn’t understand. This wasn’t part of the plan. She could try to find a way out on her own, but she knew that the best thing to do was just to wait for Michael. He told her to wait. He’d come back for her when the job was done. He  _ promised _ .

 

**~~~**

 

They loaded Terns and DiRosa into Fiona’s trunk and shoved Bates into Sam’s. All three of them were a little more banged up than had been strictly necessary, but then, this job had become personal to Michael, Sam, and Fiona, so they had had a little extra pent-up aggression to alleviate.

“Okay, one last time,” Michael said quietly when Bates and company were tucked away. “I’m getting Lily and taking her back to Mom’s. If she’s doing all right I’ll call and meet up with you. If she isn’t, I’m staying.”

“Fair, Mikey. Fi and I will convoy. Terns at the dope house, DiRosa at the marina on the boat they use to run the guns, and Bates at HQ with the books.”

“We make a call at each stop so the cops and the Feds are always behind us by one body.”

“ _ Person _ , Fi,” said Michael.

“If I had it my way it’d be bodies,” she grumbled.

“Stick to covers, okay?”

Sam looked at Fiona. “Guess you’re gonna hafta be ‘Charlotte Finley’ for a few more hours, darlin’.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Only this time can you stick to being my wife and not start calling me ‘Daddy’ halfway through what we’re doing?”

“I’m not promising anything,” Fiona glared.

“Fi,” Michael said. “Just—”    


“I’ll play along, Michael,” Fiona said, exasperated.

Sam shook his head. “See you back at Maddie’s, brother.”

As Sam and Fiona drove off, Michael turned and jogged back towards the building.

About three feet from the entrance, he was stopped.

Larry trained the gun directly between Michael’s eyes. “I know you’re carrying, kid. Put it on the ground.”

“Larry—”

“Gun, Mike. Ground. Unless you want one round through your head and the other nine pumped into a certain little girl you seem to be particularly fond of. Just because.”

Michael’s Sig hit the gravel.

“Phone, too.”

Michael complied.

“Good.” Larry flicked the barrel of the gun towards a grove of trees. “Walk.”

Michael did. He heard the crunch of plastic and glass behind him, and then Larry’s following footsteps.  _ Okay, this is bad but it could be worse. Eventually, Sam and Fi will figure out that something happened and come back for Lily. She’s tucked in the wall and she should be fine for a while. You’re just going to have to play it cool until you can figure out how to turn this around. _

Once they were in the trees there was a path which Michael followed automatically, having had no further instructions from Larry behind him. Another twenty yards on there was a pickup truck parked at the head of an access road.

“Stop.” Michael stopped and Larry came around to his side. “In the truck. We’re going on a little trip.”

“How sweet. Did you pack a picnic?”

“You know, kid, that’s the kind of lip that can get a guy turned into gator chow, and you know how much I like you. Just get in and we’ll take care of some business and then you can get back to that sweet little thing you’ve been babysitting, huh?”

“Where are we going?” Michael asked as he climbed into the passenger side of the truck.

“Oh, somewhere. Don’t you worry about that.”

“I see you’ve been to the loft,” Michael said, noticing the stolen binder leaning against the center console on his side of the truck’s floor. “What’s the deal with this binder, anyway?”

“You see, kid,” Larry began as he turned the truck around and headed down the dirt road, “when you’re dead, it can be a little difficult to make a living, ya know? You do what you can. And what I can do is listen in on the troubles of people with more money than sense. I know you read through the thing — what do  _ you _ think I’m going to do?”

Michael considered this for a second and decided the answer was obvious. “You’re going to ransom the research results.”

“Bingo. I trained you well, kid.”

“So what’s the story?”

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. More-Money-Than-Sense have a little girl, and their little girl has a very rare form of leukemia. Obviously, being the doting parents they are, Mr. and Mrs. Money will do  _ anything _ to help their precious baby get better — I know you know the feeling these days.” Larry looked sidelong at Michael and huffed a laugh. “It’s funny, you know, I never pictured you as a family man. You were always too committed to the cause. Even when you knew how flawed it was.”

Michael was gripping the grab bar over the inside of the truck door hard enough that he could have snapped it off if he’d wanted to. Larry always managed to get under his skin, but this time he was playing with fire. He eyed Larry in his periphery. He was driving one-handed, gun still trained on Michael’s side.  _ Wait until you get wherever he’s taking you and see what you can do there. You try to take him out now and you’re just as likely to wind up dead. _

“Anyway, we’re just going to get the binder somewhere I can make the deal, and we’ll go from there.”

“And where is that?”

Larry just gave Michael a look, the one that said  _ It’s cute that you think I’m going to tell you _ , and kept driving.

They were headed into the Everglades at what felt to Michael like an excessively leisurely pace — and Larry was fucking  _ whistling _ like he was on a Sunday drive enjoying the scenery. The track they were on was clearly rarely used which made for slow going to begin with. It was also dangerously narrow. Any uncontrolled movement to the steering wheel would end them up neck-deep in the swamp on either side.

Michael was just going to have to wait.


	10. Chapter 10

“There we go,” Sam said, leaning Jeff Terns up against the wall in the living room of the abandoned house the Bates crew used to store and distribute their drugs. Terns made a disgruntled noise behind his duct tape gag as his ankles were zip-tied together and then zip-tied to the ties around his wrists, effectively making him a big ball of immobile person, and Sam growled, “ _ Shut up. _ If Mrs. Finley had it her way, you’d be sitting there full of Colt .45 and this place would be burning merrily to the ground as the result of the detonation of a half-ton of C4.”

Terns just scowled.

Fiona, who had been strategically arranging items from the rest of the house to be in clear view of the responding officers, smiled evilly. “Oh, Charles. You know me so well.”

“You’re damn skippy, darlin’. You done?”

Fiona finished building a tidy tower of bricks of cocaine, reviewed her handiwork, readjusted the top brick slightly with one gloved hand, and said, “Yes.”

“Well, Mr. Terns, it’s been lovely.” Sam gave a flippant wave and he and Fiona headed for the front door.

As they did, Fiona casually dropped a match onto a pile of gasoline-soaked rags in the fireplace, the damper to which she had closed earlier. “Don’t worry,” she said to Terns. “The response times in this neighborhood are very good. They  _ should _ make it here before you suffocate. If it starts to look like they’ve been delayed, though, just roll over onto your side and keep your head under the smoke — that ought to buy you a few more minutes, anyway.”

Sam dialed 911 as they headed back to the cars. “Yes, hello? I’d like to report smoke coming from a house…”

 

**~~~**

 

It had been silent for what felt like a  _ really  _ long time. Lily had heard cars drive away, and then Michael talking to someone whose voice she didn’t recognize. After that there had been no more noise. 

It was really dark in the wall and she was getting kind of warm. She stretched her legs out long since without the grate there was no chance of anyone seeing her and let out a little sigh.

_ Where did they go? Who was the other guy, anyway? Maybe… maybe they didn’t get the bad guys. Maybe the bad guys got them! _

That was a scary thought. If Bates had captured Michael and Sam and Fiona instead of the other way around then no one would come for her ever, at all.

_ No, we couldn’t lose. We did everything right! _

_ But why else wouldn’t he come back? _

 

**~~~**

 

DiRosa simply glared at Sam and Fiona as they zip-tied every available part of him to an exposed pipe in the hollowed-out hull of the luxury yacht the Bates crew used to smuggle arms in and out of Miami. As Fiona tightened the last tie — tighter than could possibly be comfortable, but that was sort of the point — Sam started prying crates open.

“Whoa! Take a look at these, honey!” In the crate were a dozen pristine Kalashnikovs.

“Ooh, I could use a few of those, actua—”

“Charlotte,” Sam warned.

“Fine. Spoil all my fun. What else have they got?”

Sam stacked up a couple of boxes of fragmentation grenades and pulled over an open footlocker full of M4 carbines. “That looks okay, yeah?”

“Hmmm,” Fiona mused, before grabbing three IWI Tavors off a rack on the wall and leaning them against the boxes of grenades. “Now it’s perfect.”

“Nice touch, sweetheart.”

“Why, thank you, dear.”

Sam turned to DiRosa. “Well, Mr. DiRosa, it’s goodbye from us for now. You’ll hear an explosion after we leave, and shortly after that I can only assume will come the bomb squad. Don’t worry, the pyrotechnic display is purely to attract attention. You’ll be perfectly fine. Well, until you become someone’s bitch in the federal pen, but you can worry about that when you get there.”

“Coming, darling?” Fiona called from halfway up the access ladder to the deck.

“But of course, my love. You know I never keep a lady waiting.” With a wink at DiRosa, Sam followed Fiona out of the hull and over the side of the yacht back to the dock. 

They walked up through the slips and towards their cars, stopping for a second before they got in them for Fiona to push the remote detonator on the pile of ammunition she had rigged to blow in the upper cabin of the yacht. She grinned wide as the ceiling of the boat exploded with a satisfying bang. 

She dialed the authorities as she and Sam drove away. “Yes, something just exploded at Crandon Park Marina! It was one of the boats — yes, Crandon Park. Someone’s on the way? Oh, thank you!”

 

**~~~**

 

Lily was starting to think that maybe she had been left behind on purpose. She was  _ really  _ warm now and she was getting sleepy, and no matter how hard she pushed she couldn’t get the piece of wood over the hole in the wall to budge. It was making her warmer and more tired the longer she tried, so she gave up.

_ But Fi said he never breaks a promise! _

She curled back up in the corner of the hide and cried.

 

**~~~**

 

“Gimme a hand with Bates, darlin’?” Sam asked loudly. They were standing at the back of Sam’s car outside the warehouse the Bates crew used as a headquarters, having already cased the place and gagged and hogtied two of Bates’ lackeys who were on duty.

“Happy to.”

“Try not to bust his spleen, okay?”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Oh, Charles, sometimes I wonder if you love me anymore.”

Sam chuckled. “Baby, if I didn’t love you, would I let you hold the gun while I frog-marched the scum up to his office?”

“I take everything back!” Fiona chambered a round in her Colt 1911 and stood aside while Sam opened the trunk.

Bates glared up at the two of them as Sam grabbed him roughly and heaved him into a sitting position. 

“Come on, Bates. You’re needed at the office!” They walked into the warehouse and up a set of wooden stairs — complete with bound and gagged goons at its base — to an enclosed loft space, the door to which was locked. “Keys?” Sam asked, looking at Bates.

Bates just glowered some more until Fiona pushed her 1911 up between his shoulder blades, at which point he stuck his right hip out, which Sam took to mean that the keys were in his pocket — they were. Sam swung the office door open and they went inside, where he sat Bates in the desk chair. Fiona kept the gun trained on Bates as Sam roamed the room, pulling interesting looking ledgers and sheaves of paperwork off the shelves and out of drawers and spreading them around. When he was satisfied with what he’d done, he looked at their captive and said, “Where’s the safe?”

No response from Bates.

“I’m sorry, perhaps you didn’t hear me. The safe. You know, thing built into the wall where you keep all the stuff you don’t want people to find? I’d like to know where it is.”

Bates snorted.

Sam clocked him with a right cross to the jaw. “Tell me, or I’ll let the Missus loose on you, and she won’t be nearly as nice as I just was.”

Bates considered this for a moment, but seemed to find Fiona to be more than he really wanted to deal with and jerked his head towards the floor in the corner of the room.

Fiona hit him with a left hook. “Was that so hard?”

“Gonna need you for this one, darlin’,” Sam called from the corner, where he’d rolled back the carpet and pulled up a couple of floorboards.

“Here,” Fiona said, handing him her 1911 to hold in his right hand, opposite his Beretta. “This won’t take a minute.” 

Sam said to Bates, “My wife is a genius safe cracker, Mr. Bates. It’s one of the many reasons I married her, you know. That, her aim, her devotion to explosives, her intelligence, her wit… and, well, I mean, look at her.”

“I married him for his money.”

“Ooh! Shot to the heart, Charlotte!”

“What? All that money buys me plenty of lovely, explodey things to play with, and you know what they say. ‘Happy wife—’” The safe lock clicked at that point and Fiona opened the door and pulled out a laptop. “Jackpot.”

She placed it in front of Bates on the desk and booted it up. Sam handed her 1911 back and she placed it at Bates’ temple as Sam tore the strip of duct tape off of his mouth and said, “Password.”

Bates, finally realizing that he was shit out of luck, grumbled, “Zero, six, seven, alpha, charlie, niner, niner, three, hotel, uniform, x-ray, four, niner, two, two, two, zero, echo, Lima, tango.”

The laptop granted access and Sam looked at Bates. “I want the list of clients for all operations.”

Bates talked him through the path to the document and then the password for that. Sam printed two copies, pocketed one, and placed the other on the desk.

Fiona replaced the duct tape over Bates’ mouth, patted his cheek, and smiled at him. “You’re lucky my husband and our associate don’t like to leave a trail of bodies in their wake. I don’t have that kind of restraint on my own.”

“Actually, honey, there’s something I know you’ve been dying to do.” Sam walked back behind Bates and lifted him to a standing position. “Go for it, babe.”

“You really do love me, don’t you?” Fiona said saccharinely before throwing a devastating switch kick to Bates’ crotch.

Sam lowered a groaning Bates back into the chair, securing him to it with what was left of their supply of zip ties and a length of rope he’d brought up from the car, and as he and Fiona left the office he shouted over his shoulder, “Have fun in prison, Bates! They don’t take too kindly to people who sell children off into a life of sexual slavery. Just remember not to drop the soap and you should be fine!”

Fiona looked at the two guards they had tied to the bottom of the stairwell. “Bye, boys. You take care now!”

When they got outside, Sam dialed his PD buddy. “Hey. If you send out a posse to the warehouses at the south east corner of the airport they might find something interesting tied up in number eighteen, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

As Fiona got into her car she asked, “See you at Maddie’s?”

“See you at Maddie’s.”

 

**~~~**

 

The access road ended at a dilapidated dock, roped to which was an airboat. Larry pulled the truck to a stop. “Out.”

Michael exited the truck and shut the door behind himself. Larry got out the driver’s side with the binder, gun still trained on Michael.

“Larry.”

Larry rolled his eyes. “What now, Mike?”

“Why did you need me for this?”

Larry gave Michael a calculating look. “Well, I suppose now’s as good a time as any.” He leaned against the hood of the truck. “I’m getting older, kid. Scaling buildings isn’t really too high up on the agenda any more.”

“Fine,” Michael said. “But why are you dragging me into this any further than that? Why am I here now?” He was trying to buy some time, to see if he could figure out a way to get Larry’s guard down enough to incapacitate him and make an escape. He also knew that Larry knew that was likely what he was doing.

“Look, kid. I like you. I’ve always liked you. You were the most promising operative I ever mentored, you know that? But it hurt, Mike, when you stopped believing Ol’ Lar knew best. And guess what, kid? I  _ do _ know best. That’s why we’re here right now. Yeah, I could have disappeared after you got me the goods,” Larry said, waving the binder, “but I’ve seen what you’re surrounding yourself with here, and I can’t let you do this to yourself. You’re too good. You could have anything you wanted, any _ one _ you wanted, and instead you’re knocking around your hometown with that Irish bitch and Axe the clown doing small-time  _ shit _ for worthless people. You’re better than this, and apparently I’m the only one who can prove that to you. I’m the only one you can trust, Mike, I always have been. I want what’s best for  _ you _ . These, these  _ leeches _ you carry on with? They’ll drain you and drop you, kid. They’ll only stick around until you can’t give them what they want anymore. I want to give you the opportunity to give  _ yourself _ what you want.”

“I don’t want what you want, Larry. I’m not like you.” Michael was fuming, and he knew it would only be so long before he completely lost his cool. He just had to get Larry distracted enough to be able to do something about it.

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong , kid. You’re exactly like me. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I don’t consider human lives disposable, Larry. I never have.”

“Do you really think that rescuing little girls — who, by all accounts, would have been better off dead to begin with — is a worthwhile pastime? You could be doing something with a considerably bigger payday and a whole lot less fuss.”

Michael bristled. “It’s not about the payday, Larry.”

“Oh, for  _ fuck’s sake _ , not the ‘do the right thing’ bullshit.” Larry shook his head. “I’ve saved you from that. There’s no good to do anymore, not as far as the brat is concerned.”

“What do you mean?” Michael growled as his whole body went cold.  _ You son of a bitch. If you so much as LOOKED at Lily there is going to be hell to pay! _

Larry chuckled as though he could read Michael’s thoughts. “She’s as good as dead, kid. I walled her up in that nice little hide you and Axe made for her. Don’t worry, she won’t feel a thing. She’ll probably just fall asleep and that’ll be the end of—”

Before Michael knew what he was doing he was flying into Larry, taking them both to the ground. The gun fired once — Michael felt the flash go past his ribs. He rolled left and pinned Larry’s firing arm, landing a blow to his jaw on the way. Michael slid down just enough to get Larry in a wrist lock, forcing him to release the gun, which Michael caught. He pulled back, bringing the gun level with Larry’s chest.

And he fired.

Larry looked down, surprised, at the blood seeping through his shirt. “Shit, kid. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Michael stood and fired another round.

“I was saving you from yourself, Mike.” Larry started to cough, blood splattering from his lips as he did.

Michael fired again. 

This time, Larry was silent.

 

**~~~**

 

Lily felt really weird. The dark was kind of swimmy and there was a rushing noise in her ears. There was one last thing that floated through her mind before everything disappeared.

_ He’s not coming back. He broke his promise.  _

 

**~~~**

 

Sam and Fiona pulled up at Madeline’s within seconds of each other and both noticed a distinct lack of the Charger out front or pulled up to the side of the house. Exchanging a worried glance, they jogged for the front door.

Madeline opened it as they got up the steps. “Where’s Michael and Lily?”

“They’re not here yet?” Fiona asked.

As Madeline shook her head, realizing that something was worse than wrong, Sam pulled out his phone and dialed Michael.

“Voicemail,” he said.

“What happened?” Madeline asked. “Why—”

Fiona’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“Fi! Get back to the job site.  _ Now _ !”

“Michael—”

“ _ NOW _ ! Get Sam and go! I’ll explain later!” 

The line went dead and Fiona wheeled around and sprinted for the Saab. “We’ve got to go back.”

“What? Why?” Sam ran after her.

“That was Michael. Something happened but I don’t know what. He just said get back to the job site.” She threw herself into the driver’s seat and waited just long enough for Sam to shut the passenger door before she peeled away from the sidewalk.

 

**~~~**

 

The call made, Michael quickly loaded Larry’s body onto the airboat and emptied the remaining rounds from the gun into the gas tank. As the boat and Larry’s body went up in flames, he tossed the gun and Larry’s phone into the inferno and untied the boat from the dock so it could float off into the swamp. Then he grabbed the binder from the ground where it had landed, jumped back into the pickup, and started back the way they had come. He knew speed was ill-advised on this track, considering how long it took Larry to get them out there, but it was a chance he had to take.

_ Shit. SHIT. Gotta get back to Lily.  _

He couldn’t get the thought of her, walled up and alone and scared and running out of air, out of his head. He pushed the truck flat out, but it felt like he wasn’t moving.

“Come on, come ON!”

A tire hit the edge of a pothole and the truck skidded dangerously to one side. Michael barely managed to correct it in time to avoid sliding tailgate-first into the swamp.

“FUCK!”

He slowed down by about ten miles per hour, which was going to delay him far more than he wanted, but he knew that it would take exponentially longer to get back to Lily on foot if he crashed.

_ If she’s… I killed him too quickly. Should have thrown him in the truck half-dead. _ He shook his head violently.  _ No. Don’t think like him. DON’T. Just get to Lily. _

 

**~~~**

 

“He didn’t say anything but ‘get back to the job site’?”

“No. That was it.”

Sam suddenly knew without a doubt what had happened. It was just like him to screw with Michael this way. “Larry!” he shouted.

“What?”

“Larry. He showed up again the other week.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah. Mike didn’t want to worry you so he didn’t say. They were supposed to meet on Monday, but I bet you anything that Larry was hanging around today and got to Mike before he left.”

“Shit! What about Lily?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Fiona somehow managed to push the Saab even faster.

 

**~~~**

 

Michael screeched to a halt in front of the abandoned building and threw the truck into park. Without bothering to switch off the ignition he jumped out and charged into the room. There was the grate tossed off to the side, and a cheap spare cordless drill — left there on purpose for effect — on the floor next to a scrap piece of plywood from the wall build, which was covering the opening to the hide. Michael immediately tried to grab the wood and yank it off, but his fingers couldn’t get purchase. He stepped back and aimed a kick at the drywall above the blocked entrance. It took two solid kicks before there was enough of a hole to allow him to grip the board, which he pulled off in one go. He felt it splintering into his hands, but, like the muzzle flash wound at his ribs, it was secondary to getting Lily out of there. On hands and knees he reached into the wall and tugged the little girl out by her ankles. Her lips were blue but her body was conflictingly hot to the touch.

“Lily! Lily, breathe!”

Michael felt for a pulse — it was there, but faint. He pushed an ear to her chest to make sure.  _ Heartbeat. Thank god. _ He moved Lily’s arms and legs until he saw her chest start to move a little bit. “Lily! Come back to me, Lily-girl.” He sat her up, supporting her head, smoothing her hair back from her face, tapping her cheek, trying to get her to come to. “Don’t do this to me, Lily-girl, come back to me. Come  _ on _ ,  _ Lily _ ,” he urged. After a moment he heard a little catch of breath. “Lily? Come on, Lily-girl, breathe for me.” He rubbed her arm vigorously with the hand not supporting her head.

She gave a little cough, and her eyes fluttered open. She blinked, and as if she was trying to figure out if he was actually there, she reached up with a little hand and placed it on the scars under his left eye. “Didn’t think you were comin’ back,” she whispered.

Michael somehow managed to choke the words out as he held her against him. “I promised I would, didn’t I?”


	11. Chapter 11

Michael was walking out of the building carrying Lily when Sam and Fiona pulled up.

Fiona flew out of the car. Lily was limp in Michael’s arms, but her eyes were open and she weakly reached for Fiona who threw her arms around them both, pulling back almost immediately. “She’s too warm, Michael, why is she so warm?”

“The hide entrance got covered. She’s overheated and oxygen-starved.” Michael tossed the keys to the Charger at Sam. “Trunk. First aid kit. Ice pack.”

Sam wasted no time retrieving the ice pack, giving it a pop and a shake and getting it behind Lily’s neck. “There you go, squirt. That feel okay?”

Lily gave a little nod.

“Sam, there’s a binder in the truck I need you to grab — we’ll take care of it later.”

“Got it.” Sam opened the truck door and started looking.

Fiona said, “We’ve got to get her home, Michael.”

Sam, who had found the binder, started to hand Fiona the keys to the Charger. “You drive them. I’ll get going and tell Maddie you’re coming.”

“No, we need the Saab. Air conditioning.”

They all started for the cars but stopped when Lily said, “Wait.”

“What, Lily-girl?”

Lily pointed to Michael’s Sig on the ground where he’d dropped it when Larry showed up. Sam was the closest and he grabbed it, saying, “Good eye, squirt. Mike, what do you want to do about the truck anyway? And you’re doing an awful lot of bleeding, bucko.”

“Leave it, Sam. We need to get her cooled down.”

“All right, brother.” Sam tucked the Sig into his waistband, tossed the binder onto the Charger’s back seat, and drove off.

Fiona started the Saab and Michael slid into the passenger seat, still holding Lily, keeping the ice pack in place behind her neck. “I need you to stay awake, Lily-girl.”

“‘M sleepy.”

“I know you are, but I need you to fight it.”

“I know what, Lily-girl,” Fiona said, desperately trying to keep her voice light. “Tell Michael about how Maddie lost her sunglasses the other day. That was pretty silly, wasn’t it?”

“‘Kay.”

As Lily started to tell her story Michael tried to shift her off his lap to one side, knowing that his body heat wasn’t helping her to cool down any, but she clung to him with what little strength she had and he decided not to fight her. He just pointed all the vents at her, readjusted the ice pack, and tried to keep her talking.

 

**~~~**

 

Madeline practically tore Lily out of Michael’s arms when they got in the front door, grimacing at the heat radiating from the child. “Oh, Michael, she is  _ way _ too warm! Come on, baby, I’ve got a cool bath with your name on it.” She kissed Lily’s head. “And I think there’s still a banana popsicle around here somewhere.”

Michael watched his mother whisk the little girl down the hall to the bathroom.

Fiona started out the back door to the garage. “The big kit’s out here, Michael. We’d better figure out how bad the damage is.”

He followed her. “Powder burn. The bullet just grazed me.”

Sam followed both of them. “What about your hands?”

“Splinters.”

When Sam and Michael entered the garage Fiona was standing over the emergency kit, one hand holding the lid up, the other covering her face, her breathing ragged.

“Fi,” Michael said quietly, moving to put an arm around her.

Fiona moved out of his reach and yelled, “What the  _ hell _ happened?”

“Larry happened. He walled Lily up in the hide and dragged me out into the Everglades. Told me he was ‘saving me from myself’.”

“Oh for—”

“Fi, he’s gone. For good this time.”

Sam groaned. “You say that  _ every  _ time!”

“No. This time it’s permanent. I made sure of it.”

“ _ How _ sure?” 

“Three rounds center mass and an exploded airboat sure.” 

Sam and Fiona looked at Michael like he had sprouted a third arm, but they could tell he was serious.

Sam stepped towards Michael and looked at Fiona. “I’ll do hands if you do ribs.”

Fiona reached into the kit and handed Sam a box of surgical tools. As they patched Michael up they were silent; the only sounds were his occasional grunts of discomfort. 

When they were done, Michael pulled on a t-shirt Fiona had retrieved for him while Sam was finishing his hands. “Thanks.”

“You’d do the same for us, brother.” 

They were silent for a moment, taking a well-deserved collective breath, trying to ease the post-job adrenaline, when Michael caught Fiona giving Sam a look.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Sam reached behind him and pulled a folder off of the workbench.

“What’s that?”

“Well,” Sam said, “at first I thought I’d do up adoption papers. But then I figured, what the hell? The resemblance is kinda crazy. No one would ever think twice about it.” He pulled a copy of Lily’s birth certificate out and laid it on the bench, adding a pen from his pocket. All the original information on Lily was still there, but the fields for parental information were blank.

Michael stared at the piece of paper lying there for a minute, then shook his head violently. “Sam, she nearly died today because of something  _ I _ got her into.”

“No, brother. She  _ lived _ today because you refused to allow anything else.”

“We can’t do this.”

“ _ We _ can’t, or  _ you _ can’t?”

“It’s beyond irresponsible!”

“And it’s not just as irresponsible to send her off to some family who will never completely understand where she came from, why she is the way she is? People who won’t know how to pull her out of a nightmare or know when to walk softly because she’s withdrawn or make her even more fearful because they don’t know her triggers? Because I tell you what, Mike, if you’re not signing that damn thing, I am.”

“The hell you are!” Fiona shouted. “If anyone around here is signing anything in lieu of Michael, it’s going to be me!”

“Oh, yeah? How do you think—”

Michael’s ears were still registering Sam and Fiona arguing with each other, but his eyes had landed on the Formerol hippo on the exposed board above the workbench and everything else had receded into the background. He picked it up, held it in his hand.  _ She’s in your head now. Hell, she’s in your heart. Can you really imagine her not being around anymore? _ “Guys.”

“And another thing, Sam—”

“ _ Guys. _ ”

“I don’t think so, sister—”

“ _ GUYS! _ ”

“ _ WHAT _ ?!” Sam and Fiona shouted together.

Michael turned to face them, but his eyes didn’t leave the hippo in his hand. “We aren’t the only ones with a say. No one is signing anything until I make sure the most important person is on board with this.”

He put the hippo down on the bench and walked back to the house.

As they watched him go Fiona whispered, “Do you think he’s really going to do it?”    


“I know he is.” Sam heard Fiona sniff and put an arm around her — she didn’t fight him. “You know, there’s two spaces on that birth certificate.”

Fiona huffed. “He’d make someone up to be that other person before he’d let me do it.”

“Trust me, it’s gonna be you. Hell, Fi,” he pulled her into a full hug, “it’s always been you.”

 

**~~~**

 

When Michael walked in the back door he had a clear line of sight to the couch where his mother was sitting with Lily. The little girl was hugging an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel, her head laying in Madeline’s lap, the plastic wrapper and stick from the promised banana popsicle on the end table. Madeline raised an eyebrow at her son as he crossed the room.

“Hey, Mom? Can I…”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Madeline looked down at Lily and tucked some hair behind her ear. “Time to swap out.”

Lily sat up slowly — Michael was relieved to see her color had returned to normal — and leaned into Madeline’s shoulder for a second. 

“Love you, baby.” Madeline kissed her cheek and stood up. 

Michael whispered, “Thanks, Mom.” 

Madeline looked at him like she wanted to say something, but decided against it and hugged him instead before going out the back door.

Michael sat down in the corner of the sofa Madeline had vacated. “Feeling better, Lily-girl?” Lily nodded as he put a hand on her forehead to check — she was much cooler now. “Good.” Lily started to crawl into his lap but he stopped her, shifting her so that they were looking at each other. “Lily, I need to ask you something very important, and I need you to be honest with me, okay?”

Lily looked at him with big eyes and said, “I really don’t want pisghetti for dinner again tonight.”

Michael, caught off guard, chuckled. “I think we can work with that. But that wasn’t my question.” He watched her face change, saw the uncertainty creep in. “I know it’s been kind of… unusual around here, and I know today was really, really scary. It can be like that with us sometimes, because of what we do. You have a choice, Lily-girl. We can try to find you a family with a brother or a sister even, maybe, and you can go live with them and do all the things you’ve never been able to do because your mom and dad were… they way they were.” He stopped and thumbed away the tears that were falling down Lily’s cheek. “Or...” He took a deep breath. “You can get used to the chaos and stay here with us. It’s up to you, Lily-girl. Your choice.”

She dropped her ice pack and threw herself into his arms. “Please don’t make me go.” 

_ Lily-girl, I don’t think I could have let you go if I tried. _ As he retrieved the ice pack and held it against her back for her, he said, “Well, I need you to do something for me, then.”

Lily looked up at him.

“You’re going to have to learn to spell ‘Westen’.”

“W-e-s-t-e-n,” she spelled flawlessly. “Maddie taught me.”

Michael smiled. “You mean Gramma taught you.”

Lily looked confused for a second, but then the significance of what he had said dawned upon her. “For real?”

“For real.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Forever?”

“Forever.”

Then she looked at him with the same intensity she’d looked at him with that first morning in the loft when she had been trying to decide if he was trustworthy. She took her time, searching his eyes, and then finally whispered, “Promise?”

Michael rested their foreheads together. “I promise.”

 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**


	12. Chapter 12

**Epilogue**

 

“You’re _sure_ you don’t want any of the rhinestone bobby pins?”

“I’m sure, Mama.”

“But they’d be so—”

“Mama, really. No, thanks.”

“And you really won’t try the false eyelashes?”

“ _MOM._ ”

Fiona threw up her hands. “God, you’re no fun! You are _just_ like your father!’

Lily smirked and walked back to her bedroom. “Yup, that’s us, the no-fun twins.”

Michael caught a glimpse of her on her way down the hall. She had fought Fiona the whole way on this entire endeavor — over the length and style of the dress (Fiona wanted Lily in something short and strapless, Lily very firmly told Fiona that she would be wearing anything but), the height of the heels (Fiona wanted Lily in stilettos, Lily told Fiona she was out of her mind), and today, the amount of gunk Fiona wanted to plaster on her face and in her hair. Michael knew his daughter. He knew she was only going tonight because Brandon had managed to become the high school football Messiah, and as his best friend since kindergarten her sense of loyalty and pride far outweighed her distaste for school functions. He also knew that Brandon had fallen completely in love with her within five minutes of meeting her on that kindergarten playground twelve years ago and that Lily was still hilariously oblivious to the fact, but Michael sure wasn’t going to be the one to clue her in.

Fiona thumped down into the chair next to Michael with a huff.

He leaned over and kissed behind her ear. “Would you rather she know herself and set her own limits, or follow blindly?”

“ _Both!_ ” She pouted.

Michael chuckled, shook his head, and stood up and headed for Lily’s room, leaning in the doorway once he got there. Lily had put on the ‘compromise’ heels and was contemplating herself in the mirror, absentmindedly worrying the little gold medallion she wore on a chain around her neck. Michael had given it to her on her fifth birthday, the first one she’d had as a Westen. On the front was an engraving of a lily, and on the back a single word, ‘Promise’. She never took it off.

“What’s up, Lily-girl?”

Without taking her eyes from her reflection, Lily answered, “Я знаю шесть способов вытащить активный стрелок.” (“I know six ways to take out an active shooter.”)

Michael considered this, and then said, “Вы знаете семь.” (“You know seven.”) He watched her think through the list.

“Oh, yeah,” she said.                                                                                                                                                                           «.HVAC تنها چهار راه ورود و خروج هست، به غیر از سیستم»

(“There are only four possible entrances and exits, if you don't count the HVAC system.”)

«درها و پنجره ها؟»

(“Windows AND doors?”)

«.استفاده از پنجره ها امکان پذیر نیست، آنها خیلی بالا هستند. میتوانی خارج بشوی ولی مچ پای خود را میشکنی»

(“Windows aren't feasible, they're too high. You'd get out, but you'd break an ankle.”)

“Fair enough.”

“And I may or may not have stockpiled a dozen flashbangs behind a vent cover last week, just in case.”

Michael turned and banged his head on the door frame. “You are _so completely_ your mother’s child.”

“Funny, she accused me of being completely yours not five minutes ago.”

Michael moved into the room, standing behind Lily, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting their heads together. “So what’s really bothering you?”

“I wouldn’t be going to this stupid thing if Big weren’t the second coming of Dan Marino. Because he couldn't just be satisfied with being” (she slipped into her best radio announcer’s voice,) “‘Roy Jones, Jr.’s nephew and spitting image, Miami’s 15-18 year old semi-pro boxing champion!’ and fucking poster boy for the 5th St. Gym.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“You know I do. Anyway, she put that word in it to begin with.” Lily gave him her crooked grin.

“Just don’t let Gramma hear you using that word until after your next birthday, okay?”

Lily gave him a look. “Trust me, Dad, I know better than _that_.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, what’s the problem?”

Lily sighed and looked at her reflection again. “This feels like a cover.”

“Well, I guess in a way it sort of is. You’ve done the legwork, you’ve dressed the part, but look at it this way; at least you don’t have to incapacitate half a drug cartel single-handed.”

“I’d take the cartel over Olivia Preston, the Plastic Princess, any day.”

Michael laughed. “I know you would.”

“I’m only doing this for Big.”

“I know you are. And you wanna know something?”

“What?”

“The only reason you’re leaving this house looking as beautiful as you do right now is because Brandon’s taking you. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let you go with anyone I didn’t trust.”

“ _Dad_!” Lily went pink. “You’re lucky I’m so tractable.”

“Don’t I fucking know it.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

They laughed and Michael pressed a kiss into Lily’s hair as Madeline called down the hall, “Brandon just pulled up!”

“Put on your ‘Dad Face’! That really messes with him.”

Michael threw on his patented scowl. “What makes you think that wasn’t going to happen anyway?”

They walked out to the living room together as Sam was heading to open the door.

“Uncle Sammy! When did you get here?”

“Somewhere around the time you were asking your mama to go easy on the ‘glittery junk’, and very politely, I thought, considering her demented addiction to shiny shit.”

Fiona, still pouting, said, “I still say you could use some more. It brings out your eyes so beautifully!”

“You wear it, then — according to half of the world my eyes are your eyes. For that matter, the other half of the world says my eyes are Dad’s, so put it on him!”

Fiona groaned and everybody else laughed.

Lily looked at Sam. “Why are you home, anyway? I thought you picked up a job.”

“Jesse can manage on his own for a while. Anyway, if you thought I was going to miss this, then you don’t know me at all, squirt.” Sam opened the door just as Brandon reached the porch. “Brando!”

“Sam the Man!” Brandon and Sam then engaged in the most convoluted handshake anyone could ever have thought of, which ended with both of them shouting, “ _Boom_!”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just take _him_ to this dumb thing?”

“Because he’s not you. ‘Sup, Little?”

“‘Sup, Big.”

“Brandon,” Madeline said, looking him up and down, “I don’t see flowers.”

“You’re right, Mrs. Westen, and that is because I was told that if I brought one single green stem into this house I was going to be without the use of one of my arms for the foreseeable future. That about right, Little?”

“Verbatim,” Lily deadpanned.

“Lord, your mama’s right. You’re one-hundred-percent your father’s.”

“Speaking of,” Michael said from where he was leaning against the wall, “I want her back by twelve-thirty. Are we understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Brandon replied.

“I expect a phone call if anything prevents that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“From you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And it had better be a damn good reason.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

In an attempt not to burst out laughing, Lily grabbed Sam and hugged him. “See you later, Uncle Sam. Love you.”

“Love you back, squirt.”

Sam gave her a kiss and turned her by her shoulders, giving her a little push towards Madeline who bundled her up in a hug. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you, Gramma.”

Madeline turned her loose to Fiona who had sauntered over to the rest of them. She had her hands on her hips and was giving Lily the once-over, one eyebrow raised. Lily raised an eyebrow back and Fiona smiled. She took Lily’s face in her hands, kissed her nose, and rested their foreheads together. “Nuair a chomhaireamh mo bheannachtaí, déanaim tú faoi dhó.”

“Trí huaire liom tú,” Lily replied.

Michael watched them. He’d heard that exchange thousands of times since Lily had come into their lives but he’d never asked what it meant. He’d thought about asking in the beginning, but quickly came to realize that it didn’t matter what it meant word-for-word — he knew it was rooted in love, and beyond that it didn’t matter.

Fiona reached behind herself and picked up her clutch from the table, handing it to Lily who was borrowing it for the night. “You know your Walther will fit perfectly in there, right?”

Three “ _Fiona_ !”s and one “ _Mama_!” rang out.

“Brandon, run away. The no-fun bug is contagious in this house, I swear.”

Brandon laughed. “Honestly, Ms. Glenanne, I think I’ll stick it out.”

Fiona shrugged and said, “Your funeral,” but the grin as she said it was fond.

“Are you two gonna skedaddle or what?” Sam asked.

“Ready, Little?”

“Yeah, I guess.” There was a soft whine from the dog bed by the door. Lily turned to the graying Staffie occupying it and said, “I didn’t forget you!” She leaned over and gave his ears a scratch. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Don’t worry, Sawyer, I’ll take care of her,” Brandon said, and the dog’s tail wagged.

Lily snorted. “It’s cute that you think it’s not going to be the other way around.”

Brandon rolled his eyes and pointed at the door.

“Have fun, you two,” Madeline said as they started to leave.

“Hey,” Michael called after them.

“Yeah, Dad?”

Michael tossed a set of keys at Lily which she caught without taking her eyes from her father’s. “Take the Charger.”

She considered him for a second, keys in her hand, and then smiled and shook her head. She went to the sideboard and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out the old pickle jar and snagging a few bills. When she stood up she noticed Brandon giving her a weird look. “He forgot to put gas in it.”

Sam snorted, Madeline laughed, Fiona thumped her head into her hand, and Michael said, “What?”

Lily walked back to Michael, kissed his cheek, and joined Brandon at the doorway.

Michael followed them out as far as the porch and leaned against one of the pillars.

Brandon looked down at Lily out of the corner of his eye as they walked down the path to the car. “He’s back there, isn’t he?”

“Yup.” Lily didn’t have to look.

“You’re driving.”

“Duh.”

“You know, we’ve been friends since we were five and your dad still scares the crap out of me.”

Lily smiled and looked back over her shoulder. “Hang on for a sec.”

“You got it, Little.”

Lily jogged back up to the porch and into Michael’s arms. “Wait up for me?”

Michael held her a little tighter. “I promise.”

 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

**Author's Note:**

> [Farewell to Shady Glade](http://www.billpeet.net/pages/farewell.htm), by Bill Peet
> 
> [Formerol](http://www.formerol.com/)
> 
> [The Spanish Monastery, Miami, FL](http://www.spanishmonastery.com/history)
> 
> [Roy Jones, Jr.](https://www.biography.com/.image/t_share/MTE4MDAzNDEwMjUwNTMyMzY2/roy-jones-jr-40220-2-raw.jpg)
> 
> [5th Street Gym, Miami, FL](http://www.5thstgym.com/history/)
> 
> “Nuair a chomhaireamh mo bheannachtaí, déanaim tú faoi dhó.”  
> “Trí huaire liom tú.”  
> The intention here was for the exchange to be:  
> Fiona - "When I count my blessings, I count you twice."  
> Lily - "I count you three times."  
> This was as close as Google got me...


End file.
